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PRINCETON,   N.  J. 

»  C*  :V  -^  •!•  I  t*  >f       <»  IT 

SAMUEL    AG  NEW, 

OF     P  II  I  I.  A  I)  E  I.  F  II  I  A  .     PA. 

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BV  3625^ .t6  C69  1835 
Cox,  Melville  B.  1799-1833 
Remains  of  Melville  B.  Cox, 
late  missionary  to  Liberia 


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Al' 


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^,  ^5-^    , 


KEMAINS 


MELVILLE    B.  COX, 


LATE   MISSIONARY   TO  LIBERIA. 


MEMOIR 


BOSTON: 

LIGHT  AND   HORTON. 

1835. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1835, 

BY  LIGHT  AND  HORTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


PRESS  or  LIGHT  AND  HORTONi 
Samuel  Harris,  Frioter. 


PREFACE. 


The  materials  of  the  following  Memoir  have  been 
derived  principally  from  the  various  documents  left 
by  its  lamented  subject.  They  were  voluminous, 
particularly  his  private  journals,  and  it  may  be  in- 
ferred from  that  circumstance,  by  some,  that  a  more 
ample  portion  of  them  might  have  been  introduced 
into  this  volume  with  propriety  and  advantage.  The 
writer  deems  it  his  duty  therefore  to  remark,  that 
while  parts  of  these  papers,  here  and  there,  either 
were  obviously  intended  for  publication,  sooner  or 
later,  in  one  shape  or  another,  or  wear  at  least  an 
aspect  proper  for  such  use,  other  and  very  considera- 
ble passages — the  great  bulk  of  the  manuscript, 
indeed — were  as  obviously  intended  at  most,  only 
for  the  eyes  of  private  and  intimate  friends,  and  are 
moreover  of  a  character  chiefly  to  interest  that  com- 
paratively small  class  of  our  readers.  We  have  of 
course  been  compelled,  under  these  circumstances, 


IV  PREFACE. 

lo  use  a  diligent  discretion  in  the  selections  we  have 
made,  and  have  hoped,  if  we  erred  at  all,  to  err  on 
the  safer  side.  "We  believe,  however,  that  nothing 
of  essential  interest  in  the  illustration  of  the  purpose 
of  a  Memoir  like  this,  has  been  omitted. 

The  publication  of  the  Remains  of  such  a  man 
as  Cox  was,  certainly  requires  no  explanation  or 
apology.  They  will  be  preserved  as  a  precious  relic 
of  one  of  those,  whose  memories  "  smell  sweet,  and 
blossom  in  the  dust." 


MEMOIR   OF   COX. 


MEMOIR. 


Melville  B.  Cox,  the  first  Methodist  Mis- 
sionary from  America  to  Africa,  was  bom 
at  Hallowell,  in  the  State  (then  District)  of 
Maine,  on  the  9th  of  November,  1799.  He 
was  twin  brother  of  Gershom,  now  a  member 
of  the  Maine  Methodist  Conference,  and  at  this 
time  the  only  survivor  of  a  family  of  seven 
children.  Two  of  them  died  at  sea,  as  did 
the  father  in  the  West  Indies,  all  in  the  com- 
mand of  merchant  vessels,  and  neither  having 
scarcely  attained  the  age  of  mature  manhood. 
The  grandfather,  James  Cox,  was  a  Bosto- 
nian  by  birth,  passed  the  earlier  years  of  his 
life  in  that  city,  and  was  considerably  distin- 
guished among  his  fellow  citizens,  particularly 
as  a  military  man.  Tradition  makes  him  a 
member  of  the  celebrated  Tea  Party.  It  is 
also  stated  that  he  commanded  a  company  at 
the  taking  of  Louisburg,  and  was  at  the  head 


8  MEMOIR    OF 

of  the  little  party  who  gained  possession  of  the 
first  gun  taken  from  the  enemy  on  that  occa- 
sion. The  latter  report  is  probably  true,  but 
the  former  may  be  considered  doubtful ;  as  it 
is  known  that  he  migrated  to  the  State  (then 
District)  of  Maine,  about  the  year  1757,  and 
it  is  not  ascertained  that  he  ever  returned. 
He  was  a  millwright;  but  after  his  establish- 
ment on  the  Kennebeck,  (where  he  was  the 
third  settler  in  the  territory  of  Hallowell,  since 
Augusta,)  settled  himself  down  as  a  farmer, 
in  which  occupation  he  died,  in  the  year  1808, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-four. 

The  parents  of  the  subject  of  this  Memoir 
were  in  what  is  called  moderate  circumstances, 
and  his  means  of  receiving  an  education  were 
no  better  than  those  of  farmers'  sons  usually 
were,  in  similar  situations,  at  the  time.  He 
went  occasionally,  like  most  boys  in  this  coun- 
try, to  a  public  school, — generally  the  well 
known  "  District  School,  as  it  was,"  we  may 
fairly  presume — probably  never  to  any  other, 
in  the  course  of  his  life.  Even  this  privilege, 
however,  (as  those  few  who  have  lacked  it 
can  best  attest,)  humble  and  cheap  as  it  is, — 
so  humble  as  to  be  almost  overlooked,  and  so 
cheap  as  to  be  sometimes  despised  by  the 
poorest  and  humblest  of  those  for  whose  bene- 
fit it  was  designed — has  been  found,  neverthe- 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  \) 

less,  in  the  history  of  these  New  England 
States  especially,  of  most  essential  service, 
alike  to  the  interest  of  individuals,  and  through 
them  to  the  public  weal.  The  framers  of  the 
Republic  were,  many  of  them — not  to  say 
most  of  them — educated,  as  far  as  they  were 
educated,  in  a  literary  sense,  at  all,  in  com- 
mon schools ;  and  the  general  officers  of  the 
Revolution,  as  well  as  a  large  proportion  of 
those  of  inferior  standing — the  men  upon  whose 
conduct  the  fate  of  liberty  throughout  the  world 
was  hung — were  indebted  to  the  same  source, 
in  almost  every  instance,  for  the  knowledge 
even  of  reading,  and  writing,  and  casting 
accounts — and  few  of  them  were  masters  of 
any  scholastic  accomplishments,  beyond  these 
— which  proved  indispensable  to  the  discharge 
of  the  duties  committed  by  their  country  to 
their  charge.  Even  our  renowned  characters 
in  the  literary  and  scientific  departments, 
themselves,  those  whose  fame,  if  not  their 
lives,  has  extended  down  to  our  own  day,  and 
especially  the  men  who,  by  their  mechanical 
inventions,  have  done  most  for  the  wealth  and 
prosperity  of  the  great  mass  of  the  people,  and 
of  their  race  at  large,  have  derived  the  earliest 
resources  of  stirring  reflection  from  books  which 
they  neither  could  nor  would  have  read,  but 
for  the  simple  elements  communicated  perhaps 


10  MEMOIR  OF 

by  the  forgotten  old  ruler  of  the  village  school, 
"  with  spectacles  on  nose."  Some  of  the  presi- 
dents of  our  colleges  have  passed  their  whole 
boyhood  and  youth  upon  farms,  with  privi- 
leges of  education  hardly  so  good  as  these; 
and  it  is  stated  of  one  who  was  afterwards  at 
the  head  of  Harvard  University,  that  his  first 
journey  to  Cambridge,  from  his  father's  cabin 
in  the  woods  of  New  Hampshire,  (where  he 
studied  his  first  Latin  by  the  light  of  a  pitch- 
pine  knot  inflamed,)  was  performed  on  foot, 
for  the  want  of  a  better  conveyance,  and  with 
his  shoes  and  stockings  carried  all  the  way, 
for  economy  and  habit's  sake,  in  his  hand. 
James  Logan,  the  friend  of  Penn,  and  for  some 
time  governor  and  chief  justice  of  Pennsylva- 
nia, though  apprenticed  to  a  linen-draper  early 
in  life,  had  studied  the  Latin,  Greek  and  He- 
brew languages,  previous  to  his  thirteenth  year. 
He  acquired  the  French,  Spanish  and  Italian 
afterwards,  in  the  same  manner,  without  in- 
struction ;  and  meeting,  in  his  sixteenth  year, 
with  a  small  book  on  mathematics,  he  made 
himself  an  adept  also  in  that  difficult  science. 
But,  not  to  be  tedious  in  our  illustrations,  and 
not  to  go  out  of  our  own  country  for  examples, 
of  which  no  other  on  earth  is  or  ever  was  so 
full  as  our  own — and  to  say  nothing  of  the 
Perkinses,  and  Bowditches,  and  Websters  of 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  11 

our  own  times — let  anybody,  and  particularly, 
any  hoy^  who  is  disposed  to  disparage  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  means  of  education-which  are 
within  the  reach  of  the  poor,  study  the  history 
of  George  Washington,  the  surveyor,  or  Roger 
Sherman,  the  shoemaker,  or  Robert  Fulton, 
the  farmer,  or  Benjamin  West,  the  Quaker's 
son,  or  David  Rittenhouse,  the  ploughboy,  or 
Benjamin  Franklin,  the  poor  printer ;  of  the 
boys,  in  a  word,  who  became  in  their  man- 
hood the  explorers  of  science  with  the  scholars 
of  the  old  world,  the  ornament  and  glory  of 
the  arts,  the  counsellors  and  defenders  of  their 
country,  in  the  forum  and  in  the  field,  the  in- 
ventors of  the  great  practical  improvements 
now  in  the  daily  use  of  the  people — the  im- 
provements in  building,  in  living,  in  working, 
in  travelling,  in  the  saving  of  labor  every  way, 
in  everything  but  life  itself — which,  within  the 
last  fifty  years,  have  utterly  changed  the  face 
of  society  all  over  the  civilized  world.  Let 
him  study  the  history  of  these  men,  we  say, 
and  complain  of  his  poverty  and  his  privileges 
if  he  can. 

There  can  be  no  situation,  in  a  country  like 
ours,  out  of  which  a  determined  spirit  will  not 
force  itself  into  distinction, — at  least,  that  best 
of  all  its  kinds — the  distinction  of  an  honora- 
ble and  useful  life.      ^'' Since  you  received  nvy 


12  MEMOIR  OF 

letter  of  October  last,^' — wrote  "Washington,* 
from  a  camp  among  the  ridges  of  the  Alle- 
ghany moflntains,  when  but  sixteen  years  of 
age — "/  have  not  slept  above  three  or  four 
nights  in  a  bed ;  but  after  walking  a  good 
deal  all  the  day,  [in  discharge  of  his  duties  as 
a  surveyor,]  I  have  lain  down  before  the  Jire^ 
upon  a  little  hay,  straw,  fodder,  or  a  bear  skin, 
vhich  ever  vas  to  be  had,  and  vitJt  man,  wife, 
and  children,  like  dogs  and  cats  ;  and  happy 
is  he,  who  gets  the  berth  nearest  the  fireP 
NoAv,  it  is  by  no  means  necessary  that  every 
lad,  in  these  days,  should  go  into  the  woods, 
like  Washington,  any  more  than  that  he  should 
go  to  college,  in  order  to  acquire  the  means  of 
a  good  discipline  of  his  faculties,  which  is  the 
main  part  of  all  education;  but  these  cases 
may  suffice  to  convince  him  that  his  educa- 
tion, and  his  influence,  and  his  usefulness, 
and  his  success  every  way,  through  life,  will 
depend  a  great  deal  more  on  the  disposition  he 
feels,  and  cherishes,  to  make  the  best  of  his 
opportunities,  such  as  they  are,  than  upon  the 
opportunities  themselves. — This  is  something 
of  a  digression,  but  we  hope  not  without 
point.  It  is  too  common  for  boys  to  imagine 
that  unless  they  can  get  what  is  called  a  libe- 

*  In  a  letter,  which  is  still  preserved. 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  13 

ral  education,  or,  at  all  events,  go  to  schools 
and  academies  as  much  as  they  please,  and 
work  as  little  as  they  like,  they  can  never  be 
able  to  accomplish  anything  beyond  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  shop  or  the  farm.  That  is  a  great 
mistake;  and  the  example  of  the  subject  of 
this  Memoir  is  a  new  proof  of  it ; — if  not  so 
distinguished  an  instance  as  many  others,  in 
the  same  proportion  more  likely,  perhaps,  to 
be  imitated  by  the  humble  class  from  whose 
ranks  it  was  so  recently  taken. 

We  have  remarked  that  the  literary  privi- 
leges of  Melville,  while  he  remained  at  home 
with  his  parents,  were  of  the  humblest  order. 
It  is  allowed,  however,  by  those  who  remem- 
ber him  at  that  period,  that  he  improved  them 
to  the  utmost ;  and  this  is  the  trait  in  his  char- 
acter, and  the  point  in  his  history,  to  which 
we  have  intended  to  call  the  especial  attention 
of  the  younger  portion  of  our  readers.  We 
do  not  hear  it  said,  indeed,  that  he  accustomed 
himself  to  sit  up  all  night,  or  half  of  it,  very 
often,  like  Franklin  in  the  bookstore,  to  read 
when  he  ought  to  have  been  sleeping ;  or  that 
when  he  was  sent  to  drive  the  cow  home  from 
the  pasture,  he  was  found,  as  an  illustrious 
Scotch  astronomer  used  to  be,  in  his  boyhood, 
flat  on  his  back,  watching  the  stars  by  the  aid 
of  a  thread  strung  with  small  beads,  while  his 


14  MEMOIR  OF 

mother  was  waiting  for  milk  to  make  his  sup- 
per of.  No  such  pranks  are  recorded  of  him. 
We  cannot  even  show  that  he  robbed  Grimal- 
kin of  the  fur  on  her  tail,  for  a  paint-brush,  like 
West ;  or,  if  he  was  big  enough,  while  with 
his  parents,  to  hold  a  plough,  or  to  drive  one, 
that  he  used  to  amuse  himself,  as  Rittenhouse 
did,  when  left  to  himself,  with  making  out  all 
manner  of  diagrams  and  "  cyphering,"  on  the 
handles  and  share.  Not  so  much  as  one  anec- 
dote of  the  customary  precocity  is  preserved  in 
this  case.  He  had  genius  enough  to  be  "a  good 
boy,"'  in  the  old-fashioned  sense  of  the  word, 
and  to  make  as  much  as  most  boys  do,  out  of 
circumstances  humble  enough  to  give  him  an 
opportunity  to  try  his  skill;  and  that  is  the 
best  evidence  of  the  best  genius,  in  a  poor  boy, 
that  we  know  anything  about.  Not  that  he 
was  dull,  by  any  means,  as  Adam  Clarke  says 
he  was ;  and  still  less,  that  he  was  considered, 
like  him,  "  a  grievous  dunce,"  (according  to 
his  own  showing,)  good  for  nothing  but  "to 
roll  big  stones."  He  does  not  deserve  the  honor 
of  ranking  with  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  in  being, 
as  the  great  philosopher  records  of  himself, 
"  inattentive  to  study,  and  ranked  very  low  in 
the  school,  till  the  age  of  twelve."  Melville, 
wisely  content  to  await  the  ordinary  and  whole- 
some development  of  his  powers,  was,  at  the 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  15 

same  time,  early  impressed  with  that  important 
lesson  of  the  value  of  time,  which  it  takes  so 
many  men  all  their  lives  to  learn.  He  seemed 
to  understand  instinctively,  also,  what  the  ma- 
jority seem  scarcely  to  believe,  that  everybody 
in  this  world,  under  God,  is  the  maker  of  his 
own  fortune  and  his  own  fame.  Melville  had 
an  early  ambition,  of  the  best  kind.  He  was 
ambitious — anxious — laborious,  to  qualify  him- 
self "  to  act  well  his  part,"  in  life,  whatever 
he  should  be.  It  will  be  seen  how  far  he 
succeeded. 

At  an  early  age,  he  had  discovered,  under 
all  his  disadvantages,  so  strong  a  propensity 
for  study — and  his  proficiency  at  school  al- 
ways attracted  notice — that  his  parents  seem 
to  have  considered  it  the  best  they  could  do 
for  him,  to  put  him  somewhere  within  sight 
and  reach,  at  least,  of  books^  knowing  that  he 
would  be  pretty  sure  to  look  within  the  covers 
as  often  as  his  leisure  allowed.  A  bookstore 
in  the  thriving  village  of  Hallo  well,  therefore, 
was  his  next  advance ;  and  here  he  doubtless 
enjoyed  an  increase  in  his  opportunities  of  im- 
proving his  mind,  (though  not  very  considera- 
ble after  all,)  which  his  thrifty  use  of  the  "one 
talent"  of  his  first  situation  seemed  to  have 
both  deserved  and  procured.  This,  indeed, 
is   among   the  secrets  of  the   success   of  the 


16  MEMOIR   OF 

diligent.  Tlieir  diligence  soon  makes  itself 
known;  and  the  clank  of  the  tinman's  ham- 
mer who  begins  his  work  in  the  dewy  calm  of 
the  day-break,  is  not  more  sure  to  bring  him 
custom.  The  diligent  always  have  custom, 
for  they  always  have  character.  They  not 
only  make  the  best  of  the  facilities  which  are 
common  to  them  with  olliers — and  of  the  fac- 
ulties, too, — but  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  they 
will  have  friends  to  work  for  them,  and  lead 
them  on,  and  to  give  them  new  opportunities, 
from  time  to  time, — friends  who  are  made 
such  by  the  silent  but  sure  recommendation  of 
modest  merit.  The  world  is  bad  enough,  per- 
haps, at  the  best ;  but  it  will  always — were 
it  only  for  its  own  benefit — 'Mend  a  helping 
hand  "  to  those  whom  they  find  resolutely  and 
conscientiousl}^  determined  to  help  themselves. 
We  have  called  the  new  position  of  Melville 
an  advance.  It  was  so,  in  regard  to  the  scope 
it  gave  him  for  literary  cultivation.  It  was 
still  humble  enougli,  indeed,  to  have  satisfied 
the  most  self-denying,  on  the  score  of  luxuri- 
ous leisure;  but  it  was  better  than  it  had  been. 
He  had  to  work  hard,  and  keep  close  within 
doors,  most  of  his  time  ;  but  few  booksellers' 
boys — as  all  the  distinguished  men  who  have 
been  early  trained  in   that  honorable  calling 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  17 

will  testify* — are  necessarily  without  some 
considerable  opportunities  of  indulging  their 
inclination  for  study.  Our  lad,  in  the  village, 
could  now  enjoy  also  the  occasional  benefit 
of  popular  lectures,  and  other  privileges,  not 
many  years  since  wholly  unknown  even  to 
the  higher  classes,  in  the  cities  themselves. 
He  watched  them  all  narrowly,  from  his  little 
confinement,  and  seldom,  if  ever,  it  is  stated, 
when  he  could  be  at  liberty,  suffered  them  to 
pass  unimproved.  Thus,  "  little  by  little," 
(as  the  fable  says  of  the  bees  and  the  birds,) 
he  filled  his  hive  with  the  honey  of  knowledge. 
Some  distance  he  had  to  fly  for  it  sometimes, 
to  be  sure ;  and  he  found  part  of  it  in  rough 
and  wild  places ;  but  neither  himself  nor  the 
honey  was  any  the  worse  for  that.  There  is  a 
homely  adage  about  "  the  nearer  the  bone,  the 
sweeter  the  meat ;  "  and  the  spirit  of  the  saying 
is  as  true  of  the  boy  as  it  is  of  the  bee.  As  it 
has  been  stated  that  more  people  in  this  coun- 
try, no\v-a-days,  suffer,  and  suffer  more,  physi- 
cally, from  eating  and  drinking  than  from 
having  too  little  to  eat  and  drink — so,  in  the 
literary  life,  is  there  more  harm  done  by  a  re- 
pletion of  resources,  than  by  the  necessity  of 

*  Such  as,  in  this  country,  Franklin  and  Knox. 
2 


18  MEMOIR  OF 

making  the  most  of  a  few.  There  is  both  a 
sharper  appetite,  and  a  better  digestion,  in  both 
cases;  not  to  mention  that  a  man,  or  a  boy, 
who  has  to  earn  his  fare  with  his  own  hands, 
be  it  liis  books  or  his  bread,  will  be  tolerably 
sure  to  economize  his  leisiu'e  and  his  labor,  in 
either  case,  and  to  husband  the  results  of 
either,  to  the  utmost  possible  advantage. 

But  eno'.igh  of  discussion.  The  boyhood 
and  youth  of  Cox  passed  swiftly  away, — no 
more  eventful  than  may  be  inferred  from  the 
humble  quietness  of  his  situation.  It  was  an 
important  period  to  liim,  for  he  was  laying  the 
foundations  of  his  usefulness,  in  the  hardihood, 
industry,  energy  and  intelligence  of  his  char- 
acter ;  but  to  the  world,  it  presents  otherwise 
no  aspect  of  interest.  We  shall  leave  it,  with 
a  brief  account  of  his  religious  career,  such  as 
we  find  supplied  at  our  hands  by  his  own  pen; 
for  we  prefer,  upon  this  subject,  quoting  his 
own  language.  In  a  letter,  (which  we  find  a 
copy  of  among  his  manuscripts,)  addressed  to 
the  Reverend  Bishop  McKendree,  under  date 
of  May,  1S32 — about  the  time  of  his  appoint- 
ment as  missionary  to  Liberia — and  profess- 
edly in  reply  to  queries  proposed  to  him  by 
that  venerable  prelate,  and  "dear  father,"  as 
he  calls  him,  he  says— 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  19 

"  In  July,  1818,  God,  for  Christ's  sake,  forgave 
my  sins,  and  imparted  to  my  soul  '  peace  and  joy  in 
the  Holy  Ghost,'  while,  almost   from   the   depths  of 
despair,    I    Avas    pleading  for    mercy   alone   in   the 
woods.     In  a  few  weeks  after,  I  joined  myself  to  a 
small  class  in  the  neighborhood ;  and  from  that  lime 
to  this,  ray  name  has  been  among  them.     I  preached 
my  first   sermon,   December   17,  1820.     In  March, 
1821,   I  was  licensed   as  a  local  preacher,  by  the 
Kennebeck    District    Conference,   and    immediately 
commenced   travelling,   under  the   direction   of  the 
presiding  elder.     At  the  Bath  Conference  of  1S22, 
I  was  received  on  trial,  and  put  in  charge  of  Exeter 
Circuit.  I  travelled  as  an  effective  preacher  till  May, 
1825,  Avhen  I  was  taken  sick,  and  left,  that  year,  a  su- 
pernumerary, without  little  hope  of  recovery.     In  '26 
andj27,  I  was  superannuated;    and  in  '28  located, 
and  took  charge  of  the  '  Itinerant.'     In  the  winter 
of  1830,  finding  myself  about    1000   dollars  poorer 
than  when  I  commenced  my  editorial  labors,  under 
deep  family  affliction,  and  with  lungs  too  sensitive 
to  endure  the  cold,  I  left  Baltimore  for  Virginia  and 
the  Carolinas.     The  kind  manner  in  which  I  was 
received  by  my  Virginian  brethren   induced  me  to 
join   that  conference,  and,   live  or  die,   once  more 
*  try  '  to  preach  to  sinners.     I  was  stationed  at  Ra- 
leigh, and  preached  and  prayed  as  long  as  I  could 
keep  from  my  bed.     My  time   of  effective  service 
was  short.     I  preached  but  little  after  the  first  of 
May.     But  some  souls  were  converted;  enough  to 


20  MEMOIR  OF 

satisfy  me  that  I  had  followed  the  leadings  of  Provi- 
dence, though  it  had  cost  me  my  life." 

We  have  introduced  the  whole  of  this  state- 
ment in  this  connection, — tliough  it  goes  some- 
what in  advance  of  our  narrative,  and  will  be 
the  subject  of  explanation  hereafter, — rather 
than  divide  a  document  into  parts,  which  was 
intended  to  be  read  together.  In  regard  to  the 
earlier  period  to  which  it  refers,  we  find  some 
additional  notes,  in  the  shape  of  a  journal. 
From  these  we  learn  that  in  childhood,  he 
was  taught  the  principles  of  the  christian 
religion  "  with  unremitting  attention,'' — the 
greatest  of  the  many  services  which  he  owed 
to  an  excellent  mother,  and  sufficient,  alone, 
to  account  for  the  devoted  affection  with  which 
he  uniformly  mentioned  her  name.  Oh !  Miiat 
is  the  influence  of  such  a  woman  !  The  ex- 
ample which  she  sets,  the  lessons  which  she 
teaches, — her  words,  actions,  thoughts  them- 
selves,—how  silently,  as  snow-flakes  on  the 
face  of  the  calm  waters,  do  they  melt,  one  by 
one,  as  they  fall,  into  the  soft  heart  of  child- 
hood !  It  may  seem  almost  to  see  nothing, 
and  hear  nothing;  but  nothing,  in  fact,  escapes 
its  notice,  and  scarcely  anything  fails  of  its 
legitimate  effect;  for  though  the  seed  be  buried 
for  a  time,  it  is  but  buried  to  be  fostered  in  the 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  21 

bosom  of  a  warm  soil,  and  to  spring  forth, 
under  the  sunshine  of  future  occasions,  into 
greenness  and  beauty.  These  are  the  name- 
less benefactors  of  their  race.  The  praises  of 
the  great,  and  even  of  the  greatly  wicked, — of 
the  conquerors  and  oppressors  of  their  race, — 
the  praises  of  mere  wealth,  and  power,  and  of 
so  frail  a  thing  as  even  beauty — have  been 
always  rung,  in  all  changes,  till  the  ear  is 
weary  of  the  sound  ; — 

"  And  green  along  the  ocean  side, 
The  mounds  arise  where  heroes  died;" 

and  men — good  men — multitudes  of  them — 
who  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  cause  of 
humanity  in  countless  ways — have  gained,  in 
their  death  and  their  fame,  at  least,  the  ac- 
knowledgments which  their  lives  deserved. 
But  where  is  the  fame  of 

"  The  thousands  that,  wncheered  by  praise, 
Have  made  one  offering  of  their  days  ?  " 

"  Where  sleep  they,  Earth  ? — by  no  proud  stone 
Their  narrow  couch  of  rest  is  known; 
The  still,  sad  glory  of  their  name 
Hallows  no  mountain  unto  lame  ; 
No — not  a  tree  the  record  bears 
Of  their  deep  thoughts,  and  lonely  prayers  !  " 

Yet  though  no  record  tells  them,  they  are  not 
lost.     The  mother's  monument  is  in  the  virtue 


22  Memoir  op 

and  usefulness  of  those  whom  she  rears  fot 
God's  glory  and  man's  good ;  and  mountains 
of  marble  caimot  raise  a  fame  like  that. 

Witness  the  working  of  this  leaven  in  the 
mind  of  Cox,  again.  "  1  do  not  recollect."  he 
says,  "  to  have  felt  any  obligation  to  my  Ma- 
ker, sufficient  to  amount  to  a  religious  convic- 
tion, until  I  was  ten  years  old.  I  had  however 
such  coujidence  in  the  instruction  of  my  parents ^ 
that  any  deviation  from  rides  laid  down  by  them^ 
-produced  the  most  painful  recollections  and  fear- 
ful apprehensions.''''  And,  at  the  age  of  twelve, 
"  so  deep  and  lasting  were  the  sentiments  im- 
pressed with  the  first  dawnings  of  reason,  that 
time  nor  distance  could  eflace  them.  Prayer 
I  had  always  been  taught  to  believe  a  duty 
that  I  owed  to  God;  I  \\o\f  fell  that  it  was  the 
result  of  my  obligations  to  him,  flowing  from 
the  relation  I  stood  in  to  my  Creator  and  Pre- 
server." 

What  he  calls  the  first  serious  impression 
which  he  recollected  as  the  consequence  of  a 
public  ordinance,  was  derived,  at  the  age  of 
eleven,  from  the  preaching  of  an  old  and 
eccentric  Methodist,  whose  singularity  of  man- 
ners, and  especially  his  simplicity  of  language, 
so  strongly  attracted  the  lad's  attention,  that 
for  some  time  after  he  could  repeat  the  greater 
part  of  the  discourse.     The  immediate  effect  oi" 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  23 

it  was  to  induce  him  to  study  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, as  he  says,  "  in  search  of  the  way  of 
life."  He  read  them  through  by  reading  two 
chapters  every  day  he  labored,  and  ten  on  the 
Sabbath.  The  services  of  the  church  now 
wrought  powerfully  upon  him  at  times ;  his 
"  head  seemed  like  waters ;  he  was  filled  with 
anxieties."  Occasionally,  on  the  Sabbath,  at 
this  period,  he  would  take  his  Testament,  and 
enter  the  woods,  and  spend  hours  in  some  act 
of  devotion. 

These  little  incidents  may  seem  trivial  to 
some  of  our  readers,  but  not  to  those  who  are 
willing  to  ponder  the  philosophy  of  the  human 
mind,  in  all  its  states  and  stages,  and  get 
"  good  from  everything."  One  of  these  juve- 
nile illustrations  of  the  tenderness  of  his  feel- 
ings, occurred  at  the  age  of  twelve,  on  the 
occasion  of  a  visit  from  his  mother  and  twin 
brother,  which  at  this  time  was  a  rare  plea- 
sure. The  lads  engaged  in  boyish  sports,  and 
enjoyed  themselves  as  boys  commonly  do — 
roughly — when,  in  wrestling,  one  had  a  fall 
on  his  knee.  A  discussion  arose  as  to  its  being 
a  fair  fall,  or  not,  and  it  gradually  grew  warmer 
till  some  harsh  words  were  dropt  by  either 
party.  The  sport  was  abandoned  at  the  same 
moment,  for  both  perceived  they  had  gone  top 


24  MEMOIR  OF 

far.     The  sequel  we  shall  leave  the  journalist 
to  tell  in  his  own  language  : 

"  About  ten  o'clock  they  left  me  for  home.  I 
watched  them  till  out  of  sight.  But  to  describe  my 
feelings  would  be  impossible.  The  most  painful 
regret  seized  my  mind,  that  I  then  had  ever  experi- 
enced. Had  I  been  like  Cain,  the  murderer  of  my 
brother,  I  could  hardly  have  felt  worse.  Could  I 
have  seen  him,  I  thought  I  would  have  fallen  on 
my  knees,  and  with  tears  asked  his  forgiveness. 
But  he  was  gone — and  thought  I,  ere  I  see  him 
again,  my  soul  will  be  in  eternity.  I  went  to  a 
place  of  solitude,  and  poured  out  my  desires  to  God 
for  pardon.  I  wept  as  if  my  head  had  been  waters, 
and  mine  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears.  Thought  I,  he 
was  my  brother  ;  yea,  my  tioin  brother  ;  that  I  had 
not  seen  him  for  a  year,  and  now,  when  favored 
with  the  privilege,  I  had  indulged  in  anger.  I 
wept,  and  prayed  to  be  forgiven  for  that  one  sin — I 
labored,  perhaps  one,  and  perhaps  two  hours — till,  in 
a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  I  felt  that 
God  had  forgiven  me,  and  rose  feeling  as  much  jus- 
tified from  that  sin,  as  if  I  had  never  been  guilty  of 
it,  and  with  a  peace  and  calmness  I  can  never 
forget.  Thus  passed  days  and  months  sinning  and 
repenting." 

We  shall  now  transcribe  his  account  of  the 
change,  already  referred  to  in  his  statement  to 
the  Bishop,  which  took  place  in  1818  : 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  25 

"  It  was  Avhen  religion  was  at  an  unusually  low 
ebb,  that  I  professed  the  religion  of  Jesus.  There 
were  indeed  some  who  had  the  form  of  godliness  in 
the  village,  but  there  were  few  that  had  the  power. 
Some  Methodists  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town  were 
contending  strongly  against  the  wiles  of  Satan,  but 
looked  on  as  enthusiasts  or  bigots.  Whoever  had 
sufficient  firmness  to  confess  himself  such,  was  sure 
to  incur  the  one  or  the  other. 

"  The  spring  had  passed  away  with  me  in  a  care- 
less indifferent  manner.  Never,  perhaps,  had  six 
months  witnessed  against  me  so  much  vanity  and 
folly — so  much  thoughtlessness  upon  religion,  and 
stifling  of  convictions.  I  felt  hurried  into  the  com- 
pany of  the  careless,  and  become  almost  the  last 
that  would  leave  it. 

"  The  summer  came,  and  with  it  brought  the 
intelligence  of  the  death  of  an  uncle,  who  had  once 
been  a  Methodist  preacher.  I  attended  his  funeral 
in  company  with  other  relations,  and  heard  a  dis- 
course from  Rev.  Mr.  T.,  though  with  but  little 
effect  on  me.  After  the  obsequies  were  over,  I  was 
invited  to  a  walk  with  several  cousins,  among  whom 
was  a  daughter  of  my  uncle,  who  had  lately  pro- 
fessed religion,  in  a  revival,  about  twenty  miles 
back  in  the  country.  She  was  warm  in  her  first 
love,  and,  while  her  father  was  cold  in  death,  felt 
what  nature  alone  is  a  stranger  to.  She  knew  well 
how  dear  the  soul  of  the  sinner  was,  and  felt  the 
importance  of  the  cause  of  Christ.     We  walked  in 


26  MEMOIR  OF 

company  with  perhaps  eight  or  ten.  At  about  half 
a  mile,  and  just  as  I  was  about  to  take  leave  of 
them,  Mary  stepped  forth  in  view  and  presence  of 
all,  and  with  an  unaffected  interest,  invited  me  to 
seek  for  religion.  Said  she  '  You  need  not  believe 
what  I  say  of  it,  hut  come  and  see  for  yourself; 
taste  and  see  how  good  the  Lord  is.'  Her  words 
sank  deeply  in  my  heart.  I  however  kept  myself 
as  composed  as  possible,  and  after  thanking  her 
kindly  for  her  advice,  and  telling  her  that  I  hoped 
I  should  or  would  '  try  to,'  bade  them  good  evening, 
and  left  them. 

"  But  my  feelings  were  unutterable.  My  sins 
appeared  in  terror  before  me.  One,  above  all  the 
rest,  seemed  to  haunt  me — that  of  grieving  and  re- 
sisting the  Holy  Spirit.  I  thought  it  had  left  me 
forever.  While  passing  through  a  sm.all  grove,  on 
my  way  home,  I  fell  on  my  knees,  and  poured  out 
my  soul  to  God,  and  begged  him  that  I  might  re- 
solve in  his  strength  to  seek  him. 

"  For  three  weeks  I  know  not  that  I  smiled  once. 
My  greatest  fear  was,  that  God  had  so  often  called, 
and  I  had  so  often  resisted,  that  now  he  would 
laugh  at  my  calamity,  and  mock  when  my  fears 
had  come  upon  me.  I  however  strove  to  conceal 
my  feelings  from  every  one,  but  sought  every  means 
of  grace  where  I  thought  I  should  not  be  suspected 
of  seriousness.  In  June,  I  attended  the  Conference 
on  Sunday.  Bishop  George  preached  from — '  And 
this  gospel    shall    be    preached  in    all    the    worldj 


Melville  b.  cox.  27 

Sec. — and  then  shall  the  end  come.'  His  de- 
scription of  the  gospel  was  lovely,  but  that  of  the 
*  end  '  was  awfully  alarming.  I  felt  deeply  afflicted 
Under  it,  and  the  constant  language  of  my  heart 
was,  'God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner.'  In  the 
evening,  I  attended  in  the  grove,  to  hear  Rev. 
Mr.  R .  I  recollect  nothing,  but  that  my  feel- 
ings were  indescribable.  I  thought  I  would  give 
worlds,  if  I  had  them,  if  a  christian  would  speak 
to  me,  and  take  me  by  the  hand  and  lead  me  to  the 
altar  ;  but  none  came  to  me,  and  I  returned  '  groan- 
ing, being  burthened.'  This,  however,  seemed 
to  direct  me  more  and  more  to  Christ :  it  was 
vain  to  seek  help  elsewhere.  My  case  seemed 
hopeless.  I  thought  myself  forgotten  of  God  and 
his  children.  I  resolved,  hov/ever,  that  I  would  go 
mourning  all  my  days — that  I  would  always  pray, 
'  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ' — that  in  the  ago- 
nies of  death  I  would  continue  to  call,  and  that 
while  I  was  descending  to  the  burning  lake  I  would 
repeat  the  cry,  '  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ! ' 
Thus  I  continued  for  days,  with  a  weight  and  dis- 
tress of  mind  that  no  one  knew,  but  he  who  drank 
the  '  wormwood  and  the  gall.'  One  Sunday  evening, 
after  having  attended  church,  an  old  promise  which 
I  had  heard  from  a  preacher,  revived  Avith  some 
comfort  to  my  mind.  He  had  said,  while  trying  to 
encourage  mourners,  that  however  great  our  sins,  if 
we  were  fully  determined  to  seek  God  with  all  our 
hearts,  the  Lord  would  not  suffer  us  to  die  without 


28  MEMOIR  OF 

forgiveness.  This  for  a  moment  seemed  to  break 
the  gloom  of  despair,  and  I  resolved  to  ask  once 
more  in  /wpe,  and  if  disappointed,  still  to  adhere  to 
my  former  resolution,  though  given  up  to  despair. 
I  went  to  a  little  grove  full  in  my  view,  and  con- 
tinued to  pray  for  some  time,  without  any  change  of 
feeling.  Finally,  I  concluded  I  must  give  up  ;  and 
between  despair  and  hope,  I  was  about  to  do  so. 
But  that  moment — in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye — my 
heart  was  filled  with  joy.  I  praised  God — I  felt 
light.  I  looked  round  to  see  the  'new  sun  and  new 
earth,'  that  I  had  been  taught  to  expect.  'T  was 
the  same,  only  they  now  wore  a  smile  instead  of 
gloom.     The  change  was  in  me." 

Of  the  interval  which  elapsed  between  this 
event  and  the  time  already  mentioned,  when 
Mr.  Cox  commenced  preaching,  little  informa- 
tion in  detail  is  left  us.  It  appears,  however, 
that  his  apprenticeship  was  not  served  out,  a 
separation  being  mutually  agreed  on  by  his 
employer  and  himself;  and  also  that  a  portion 
of  his  nonage  was  passed  with  one  of  his  un- 
cles, by  his  invitation.  Here,  probably,  he 
had  an  opportunity  of  preparing  himself  more 
systematically  than  before,  for  the  work  before 
him,  which,  by  this  time,  must  undoubtedly 
have  wholly  engrossed  his  thoughts. 

It  was  about  this  period  tliat  he  lost  one  of 
his  brothers — James.     The  only  record  we  find 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  29 

of  it  in  the  journal  is  contained  in  the  follow- 
ing passage : 

"  AiiGTJST  3,  1820. — While  in  prayer  meeting,  just 
as  I  had  finished  opening  the  meeting,  my  brother 
came,  and  beckoned  for  me  to  go  to  the  door.  I 
went,  immediately  apprehending  the  burthen  of  his 
thoughts, — '  James  is  dead  ! '  Our  dear  mother  fol- 
lowed us  immediately  out,  and  called  from  some 
distance,  with  the  hurried  anxiety  of  a  mother,  '  Is 
James  dead  ?  ' — all  too  painfully  true." 

There  would  seem  to  be  something  more 
meant  here  than  meets  the  ear,  which,  for 
some  reason,  Mr.  Cox  forbore  to  communicate. 
The  elucidation  has  been  furnished  us,  while 
in  the  act  of  collecting  the  materials  of  this 
Memoir,  from  an  authority  which,  as  regards 
the  facts,  stated  as  facts,  at  least,  no  one  of 
our  readers,  we  venture  to  say,  would  feel 
disposed  to  gainsay,  whatever  his  opinion  may 
be  of  the  comment  attached.  We  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  insert  that  also,  in  the  language  of  the 
writer : — 

New  York,  July  25,  1835. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  : — There  is  one  circumstance  in 
the  life  of  the  late  Mr.  Cox,  which,  at  least  to  some 
of  his  christian  friends,  may  claim  a  degree  more  of 
attention  than  he  has  given  to  it,  and  which  it  is 
probably  out  of  your  own  power  to  give,  without 


30  MEMOIR  OP 

some  additional  facts  in  the  case.  If  I  recollect 
rightly,  he  has  merely  recorded  the  fact,  and  that 
rather  incidentally.  A  relation  of  the  circumstances 
is  the  more  important,  as  without  the  detail,  the  fact 
may  become  a  subject  of  ridicule  by  the  semi-infidel, 
but  with  this  detail,  may  afford  him  a  suggestion, 
the  truth  of  which  he  cannot  so  easily  gainsay.  I  am 
aware,  too,  that  the  occurrence  may  be  passed  over, 
as  have  been  thousands  of  others,  of  a  similar,  and 
even  of  a  more  striking  character,  without  acknowl- 
edging any  supernatural  agency  ;  but  it  must  be  on 
the  ground  of  admitting  greater  mysteries  in  the 
explanation  than  would  be  found  in  frankly  con- 
fessing even  the  agency  of  the  Deity. 

"  The  following  are  the  facts  : — they  occurred 
when  Mr.  Cox  was  about  twenty  years  of  age.  At 
the  time  of  this  singular  incident,  his  brother  James, 
who,  it  will  be  seen,  was  concerned  in  the  affair,  was 
at  sea — being  master  of  the  brig  '  Charles  Faucet,' 
which  was  then  on  her  passage  to  New  Orleans. 
This  young  gentleman,  although  well  fitted  for  his 
business  in  every  other  respect,  and  irreproachable 
in  his  conduct  among  men,  was  destitute  of  religion. 

"  From  the  hour  that  James  sailed  for  New  Or- 
leans, Melville,  with  another  brother  of  his,  and 
who  was  alike  partner  in  his  '  precious  faith,'  made 
the  absent  brother  a  constant  subject  of  prayer. 
Such,  indeed,  were  their  feelings  for  James,  and  so 
absorbing  to  them   was  the  great  question  of  hia 


MELVILLE   B.   COX.  31 

soul's  salvation,  that  it  became,  for  a  few  week&, 
with  them,  their  first  and  last  thoughts  for  the  day. 

"  One  evening,  just  as  the  sun  had  fallen,  the  two 
brothers,  as  they  were  sometimes  wont  to  do,  visited 
the  edge  of  the  woods,  back  of  the  village,  where 
they  then  resided,  and  there  knelt  down  to  pray. 
The  first  object  of  interest  before  them  was  their  ab- 
sent brother,  whose  image  came  up  to  their  view 
with  more  than  ordinary  distinctness,  and  Vv'ho,  it 
seemed  to  them,  was  not  only  far  away  on  the  sea, 
tossed  upon  its  waves  as  the  spirit  of  the  storm 
might  drive  him,  but  'without  hope — without  God 
in  the  world  ' — and  liable  to  fall  into  the  gulf  of  wo. 
As  they  prayed,  their  own  spirits  seemed  in  agony 
for  James,  and  they  poured  out  their  feelings  in 
alternate  offerings,  with  a  depth  of  sympathy' — of 
religious  fervor — of  faith  in  God,  never  before  ex- 
perienced by  them  for  him.  It  was  given  to  them 
to  wrestle  with  God  in  prayer,  and  to  importune  as 
for  their  own  souls.  And  thus  they  did,  uncon- 
scious of  the  nightly  dews  that  were  falling  upon 
them,  until  the  conflict  seemed  past,  and  the  blessing 
they  sought  gained.  They  both  rose  from  prayer, 
and  without  exchanging  a  word  upon  the  subject  of 
their  feelings,  went  to  their  different  homes  for  the 
night. 

"  The  next  morning,  the  brothers  met ;  but  the 
feelings  of  the  past  night  were  yet  too  vivid  to  be 
dissipated.  Said  Melville  to  the  younger,  '  What 
did  you  think  of  our  feelings  last  night  ? '     'I  think,' 


32  MEMOIR  OF 

said  the  younger  brother,  '  James  has  experienced 
religion.'  '  Well,  I  think,'  said  Melville,  '  that  he 
IS  DEAD  ;  and  I  have  put  it  down  in  my  diary  ;  and 
you  will  see  if  it  is  not  true.'  A  few  weeks  passed 
away,  and  tidings  came  that  James  was  dead.  He 
died  within  a  few  days'  sail  of  the  Balize,  in  the 
evening,  and,  as  the  brothers  supposed,  by  a  com- 
parison of  the  letter  they  received  with  Melville's 
diary,  on  the  same  hour  in  ivhich  they  were  engaged 
in  prayer  for  his  sonl. 

The  above  letter  contained  no  reference  to  his 
religious  feelings,  so  that  the  correctness  of  the 
younger  brother's  impression  was  yet  to  be  deter- 
mined. On  the  return  of  the  brig,  however,  it  was 
ascertained,  by  conversation  with  the  mate,  that  the 
feelings  of  both  were  equally  true.  It  appeared 
from  the  mate's  testimony,  and  other  circumstances, 
tliat  immediately  after  his  sailing,  James  became 
serious,  abandoned  profaneness,  to  which  he  had 
been  accustomed  for  years,  and  forbade  the  indul- 
gence of  this  profitless  and  degrading  crime  on  board 
his  vessel ;  and  this  seriousness  continued  to  the 
hour  of  his  death.  He  communicated  his  thoughts, 
however,  to  no  one,  excepting  to  his  friends,  upon 
paper,  which  they  received  after  his  death.  Yet  it 
does  not  appear  from  any  of  these  circumstances, 
that  he  found  peace  to  his  mind,  unless  it  were  in 
his  last  hour. 

"  On  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  lie  died, 
he  said  to  his  mate  '  he  thought  he  should  die  that 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  33 

day ; '  and  accordingly,  made  what  arrangements 
he  could  for  such  an  event.  He  gave  some  direc- 
tions about  the  vessel,  and  requested  a  lock  of  hair 
to  be  cut  from  his  head,  which,  with  a  ring  that  he 
took  from  his  finger,  was  handed  to  his  friends.  He 
then  gave  himself  up  to  his  fate.  In  the  evening, 
the  mate  went  below ;  and  seeing  quite  a  change 
had  taken  place  in  his  appearance,  and  that  death 
was  rapidly  approaching,  he  took  his  hand,  and 
thus  addressed  him  : — '  Captain  Cox,  you  are  a  very 
sick  man.'  'Yes,  I  know  it,'  was  calmly,  though 
feebly  articulated.  '  You  are  dying,'  continued  the 
mate.     '  Yes,  I  know  it,'  he  again  whispered.     '  And 

are  you  willing  ? '    '  Yes,  blessed  ' and  burst  into 

a  flood  of  tears,  and  expired. 

"  To  the  christian,  I  have  nothing  to  say  on  the 
above  circumstance.  To  him,  all  is  clear  as  the 
light  of  day.  But  to  the  infidel,  I  may  propose  one 
question.  How  was  it  possible  that  the  event  of 
James's  death,  and  the  change  which  he  evidently 
experienced  in  his  feelings — call  it  by  what  name 
you  please,  and  the  consolation  of  which  no  one 
would  take  from  the  dying— how  is  it  possible  that 
the  event  should  be  so  strongly  impressed  upon  the 
minds  of  these  two  brothers,  when  he  to  whom  they 
related  was  thousands  of  miles  distant ;  and  how 
could  it  occur,  too,  on  the  very  hour  when  the  events 
were  taking  place  ? 

Affectionately  yours,  F." 


94  MEMOIR  OF 

We  return  to  the  course  of  the  memoir  of 
Melville.  The  condition  of  his  mind  at  this 
period — we  presume,  in  anticipation  of  his 
ministry — may  be  inferred  from  the  following 
passage  of  his  journal : 

"July  10,  1820. — I  think  I  can  say  with  the 
Psalmist,  '  the  Lord  is  my  shepherd ; '  and  it  is  my 
desire  to  follow  him  whithersoever  he  goeth.  All  I 
want  is  the  mind  that  was  in  Christ  Jesus.  Many 
times  he  maketh  me  to  lie  do\vn  in  green  pastures ; 
he  leadeth  me  by  the  side  of  still  waters.  Oh,  that 
my  peace  may  be  like  a  river,  and  my  righteousness 
like  the  waves  of  the  sea.  Though  I  pass  through 
the  valley  and  shadow  of  death,  I  will  not  fear  ; 
though  the  thunders  roll,  and  from  pole  to  pole  rend 
this  earth,  if  God  be  my  refuge,  what  can  I  want 
beside  ? 

"  Now,  Lord,  hear  my  prayer  !  Restore  my  soul 
to  full  health.  Lead  me  in  the  path  of  true  holi- 
ness. For  the  sake  of  my  Redeemer,  may  thy  rod 
and  thy  staff  comfort  me.  Anoint  me  with  the  oil  of 
thy  kingdom  ;  may  my  cup  run  over  with  gladness. 
May  thy  mercy  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life. 
May  I  dwell  in  thy  house  forever.  Lord,  help  me 
to  be  thankful  for  thy  past  goodness.  This  I  ask 
for  Christ's  sake." 

The  interesting  occasion  of  the  delivery  of 
his  first  sermon  is  thus  recorded  : 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  35 

"  Dec.  17,  1820,  is  a  memorable  day  to  me.  I 
rode  out  to  Readfield,  and  by  the  advice  of  Rev. 
James  Williams,  attempted  for  the  first  time  to 
preach.  The  meeting  was  held  in  Carleton's  school 
house.  I  trembled  so  that  I  could  scarcely  see  a 
letter  in  the  hymn  book,  till  I  rested  my  hand 
upon  the  pulpit.  Text : — '  Trust  ye  in  the  Lord 
forever ;  for  in  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting 
strength.'  The  text  I  thought  quite  as  applicable 
to  myself  as  any  I  had  heard. 

"  The  calmness,  the  sweet,  unruffled  peace,  and 
the  inward  satisfaction  which  I  felt,  after  the  ser- 
vices were  over,  I  can  never  forget." 

He  mentions  that  his  second  sermon  was 
preached  in  what  was  formerly  called  Malta, 
near  his  friend  James  Wingate's.  On  this  oc- 
casion, an  unusual  eifect  was  produced  by  his 
discourse,  and  he  speaks  of  it  with  evident 
satisfaction. 

The  life  to  which  Mr.  Cox  had  now  devoted 
himself  is  one  of  which  little  has  been  said,  by 
those  who  have  gone  through  with  it,  and  of 
which,  therefore,  the  community  at  large  have 
probably  but  a  vague  conception.  Humble 
enough,  in  human  eyes,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  it  is ;  and  yet  few  are  aware  of  its  trials 
and  hardships,  on  one  hand,  or  of  the  good 
account,  on  the  other,  to  which  it  may  be 
turned,   and  has  been,  by  those  disposed,  (as 


36  MEMOIR  OF 

the  subject  of  our  memoir  was,)  to  make  the 
most  of  it  as  a  disciphne  for  themselves,  at  the 
same  time  that  they  labor  unsparingly  for  the 
benefit  of  the  people  committed  to  their  charge. 
A  better  school  for  the  study  of  human  na- 
ture, especially — the  knowledge  of  which  is 
so  valuable,  not  to  say  indispensable,  to  the 
preacher,  of  all  other  men — cannot  easily  be 
imagined. 

He  was  stationed  by  the  Conference,  during 
this  period  of  his  labors  in  Maine,  in  various 
parts  of  that  state,  but  generally  in  those  where 
the  services  of  an  efficient  minister  were  sup- 
posed to  be  most  needed ;  that  is,  for  the  most 
part,  where  there  were  fewest  of  all  the  com- 
forts of  civilized,  as  well  as  religious  society. 
The  personal  equipments  with  which  he  sup- 
plied himself  for  this  career  in  the  wilder- 
ness were,  from  his  circumstances,  as  well 
as  from  principle,  necessarily  of  the  simplest 
quality ;  scarcely  beyond  the  example  of  the 
primitive  christians  themselves,  when  they  went 
out  "  two  by  two  " — a  social  consolation,  (and 
an  aid,  doubtless,)  which  our  wanderer  was  in 
no  situation  to  enjoy.  A  good  deal  of  the  time, 
he  was  without  the  substantial  companion- 
ship of  a  horse, — an  appurtenance  commonly 
regarded,  in  such  cases,  we  take  it,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  necessity.     He  speaks  of  walking  eight 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  37 

or  ten  miles  to  hold  a  meeting.  This  was 
sometimes  in  the  daytime,  and  sometimes  in 
the  night,  and  by  high-ways  or  by-ways,  over 
field  or  flood,  as  the  case  might  be.  Whether 
he  got  anything  to  eat,  too,  on  the  way, — or 
what  he  got — or  what  his  accommodations 
generally  might  be — were  in  a  great  degree  ac- 
cidental ;  and  he  probably  considered  himself 
fortunate  at  this ; — fortunate  if  his  sufferings 
consisted  chiefly  in  temporal  or  trivial  things, 
and  especially  in  mere  privation  and  exhaus- 
tion alone. 

A  specimen  or  two  of  this  manner  of  life,  at 
random,  may  better  illustrate  what  we  mean. 
He  stopped  at  a  dwelling  house  by  the  way- 
side, on  one  occasion,  and  made  a  dinner,  and 
doubtless  a  most  acceptable  one  after  a  long 
walk,  on  a  plain  dish  of  bread  and  fish,  with- 
out gravy  or  butter,  but  with  the  extra  addi- 
tion of  a  comfortable  cup  of  tea.  This  was 
well.  He  was  extremely  weary,  however, 
which  was  perceptible  enough  to  any  ob- 
server ;  and  this  was  a  family  of  his  own  per- 
suasion, it  would  seem ;  but  no  one  invited 
him  to  tarry  with  them,  and  he  had  to  set  off 
and  walk  four  miles  through  the  woods,  before 
he  could  find  a  shelter  for  his  head. 

But  this  was  doing  well,  for  he  found  one 
at  last,  and  that  among  friends.     At  other 


38  MEMOIR  OF 

times,  he  was  disappointed  more  grievously. 
There  was  a  want  of  ordinary  hospitahty, 
even  with  those  for  whose  benefit  he  was  in- 
tending to  labor,  and  who  must  have  been 
aware  of  the  fact.  This  afflicted  him,  and 
though  he  probably  did  not  complain,  which 
was  rarely  his  practice,  his  reflections  show 
how  he  felt  it. 

"  I  have  been  visiting,"  he  says  at  one  time, 
"  some  of  my  brethren  ;  but  truly  they  appear  more 
like  distant  relations,  than  children  of  one  family. 
They  are  unwilling  to  help  in  distress,  or  to  open 
their  houses  to  the  needy.  I  rode  from  house  to 
house,  to  get  my  horse  kept  one  night,  but  could 
not,  and  was  obliged  to  go  to  a  tavern.  I  returned, 
and  cried  out,  '  Oh,  that  I  had  a  lodging  place  in 
the  wilderness  :  ' — nay,  death  seemed  desirable.  I 
wept  in  solitude — among  strangers  ;  but  God  was 
with  me,  and  will  raise  me  up.  '  Why  art  thou 
cast  down,  0  my  soul  ?  hope  thou  in  God,  for  thou 
shalt  yet  praise  him.'  O  Lord,  may  this  trial  wean 
me  from  this  world,  and  fix  my  soul  on  thee.  Show 
me  the  worth  of  souls.  Raise  thy  work,  0  God. 
How  can  I  live — how  can  I  live,  unless  thy  work 
prosper  ? " 

In  another  instance,  he  had  been  preaching 
at  some  remote  settlement  in  the  wilderness  of 
the  Penobscot  country,  (as  it  then  was,)  at  the 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  39 

time  he  was  upon  his  Exeter  Circuit,  when 
it  had  got  to  be  late  in  the  evening  of  a  cold 
winter  night,  after  a  hard  day's  work.  Under 
these  circumstances,  he  was  told  by  the  family 
with  whom  he  had  taken  tea,  that  they  could 
not  accommodate  him  with  a  bed.  He  ex- 
pressed his  gratitude  to  them,  of  course,  for 
what  he  already  owed  them,  and  started  off  in 
the  night — through  the  woods — a  perfect  stran- 
ger in  the  country — with  roads  and  crossings 
running  by  him  and  about  him  in  every  direc- 
tion— to  find  the  house  of  a  former  acquaint- 
ance, which  luckily  he  at  length  succeeded  in 
doing.  Another  night  in  the  winter,  he  rode 
on  horseback  from  half  past  nine  till  two  or 
three  in  the  morning,  between  Sebec  and  Exe- 
ter, to  attend  a  quarterly  meeting  the  next 
day.  This  was  rather  rough  travelling — and 
he  had  a  good  deal  of  the  same  kind — but 
"that  night,"  he  says,  "and  that  deep  forest, 
were  to  me  as  a  Paradise."  We  are  not  cer- 
tain that  this  was  not,  on  the  whole — and  es- 
pecially considering  his  health,  and  a  good 
degree  of  success  in  his  ministry — the  happiest 
portion  of  his  life.  We  should  dwell  less  on 
these  little  vicissitudes — as  he  considered  them 
— but  that  they  may  furnish  serviceable  hints 
to  some  persons  who,  if  they  think  more  of  the 
drudgery,  as  well  as  of  the  dignity,  of  this 


40  MEMOIR  OF 

profession,  will  be  more  ready  than  some  of 
Melville's  calculating  acquaintances  were,  to 
^^  open  their  houses  to  the  needy. ^^ 

"  If,"  he  somewhere  says,  "  I  had  confined  myself 
to  the  limits  of  the  Plan,  I  might  have  had  rather 
an  easy  time  of  it.  But  there  were  too  many  calls 
for  help  to  permit  this  ;  and  wherever  I  had  an  in- 
vitation, if  possible,  I  would  go,  and  at  least  preach 
once.  Sometimes  I  had  to  wade  swamps,  some- 
times follow  a  foot-path  through  the  woods.  Once 
I  went  to  Ripley,  to  Frazerville,  and  to  Sebec, 
and  to  several  other  towns,  which  I  do  not  now 
recollect,  &c." 

Neither  could  it  be  considered  that  his  pecun- 
iary inducements  were  such  as  to  excite  much 
of  a  covetous  spirit  within  him.  If  he  thought 
of  such,  when  he  abandoned  the  comforts  of 
home,  for  the  life  we  have  here  been  describ- 
ing, the  reality  must  speedily  have  corrected 
his  error,  though  it  does  not  appear  to  have  al- 
tered his  conduct.  He  received  in  one  circuit 
less  than  five  dollars  for  about  a  quarter's  la- 
bor. Repeatedly  he  resorted  to  keeping  school, 
in  addition  to  all  his  other  duties,  that  he 
might  supply  himself  with  what  most  persons 
would  count  among  the  necessaries  of  a  poorer 
man  than  himself.  While  at  Bath,  he  taught 
three  months,  preaching  twice  or  thrice  on  the 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  41 

Sabbath  at  the  same  time,  and  lecturing  once 
during  the  week  besides,  part  of  which  ser- 
vices were  rendered  in  neighboring  villages,  at 
a  considerable  distance  from  the  district  in 
which  he  resided.  On  Hamden  Circuit,  also, 
he  taught  a  grammar  class.  Subsequently  to 
this,  a  horse  which  had  been  of  some  service 
to  him  became  disabled,  and  he  sold  the  ani- 
mal for  fifteen  dollars — perhaps  a  tolerable  in- 
dication of  his  worth  at  the  best  of  times. 
However,  he  found  he  could  hardly  dispense 
with  such  an  aid,  in  some  shape,  so  he  bought 
another ;  and  to  pay  for  him,  went  to  keeping 
two  grammar  schools,  which,  he  adds,  did  not 
at  all  interfere  with  his  appointments,  as  he 
attended  them  at  hours  appropriated  to  sludp 
or  7-est.  Twenty-four  lessons  of  an  hour  each 
constituted  this  course  of  instruction.  He  was 
of  opinion  that  his  pupils  in  this  way  obtained 
more  critical  knowledge  of  the  English  lan- 
guage than  in  six  or  twelve  months  of  ordi- 
nary instruction  ;  and  we  presume  that  he 
might  have  made  the  same  remark  of  himself. 
There  is  scarcely  any  exercise  equal  to  this  of 
teaching,  as  an  intellectual  discipline,  where 
the  teacher  is  disposed  so  to  use  it;  and  the 
more  intelligent  the  pupils,  and  the  more  am- 
bitious the  preceptor,  in  such  a  case,  the  better, 
other  things  equal,  for  either  party.     A  very 


42  MEMOIR  OF 

large  proportion  of  the  young  men  educated  at 
our  best  colleges,  including  many  who  have 
since  been  highly  distinguished  in  church  and 
state,  have  been,  by  their  own  acknowledg- 
ment, eminently  indebted  to  this,  among  the 
means  of  their  proficiency.  Every  minister  of 
the  gospel,  at  least,  it  seems  to  us,  should  train 
himself  strictly  to  a  teacher's  duties.  They 
will  compel  him  to  cultivate  both  plainness 
and  thoroughness ;  and  to  be  plain  and  thor- 
ough, he  must  think  distinctly,  and  work  sys- 
tematically ;  and  all  these,  aside  from  very 
important  moral  and  practical  considerations, 
will  be  found  promoted,  by  faithful  teaching, 
a  good  deal  more  in  the  preceptor's  mind,  than 
they  can  be  under  common  circumstances,  in 
the  pupils'. 

One  more  specimen : — One  Sunday,  after 
having  gone  a  considerable  distance  to  preach, 
and  having  preached  twice,  and  being  greatly 
fatigued,  as  well  as  in  want  of  food,  he  went 
to  the  door  of  the  dwelling  house  of  an  ac- 
quaintance who  had  very  kindly  entertained 
him  on  a  former  occasion,  and  probably  in- 
vited him  to  make  a  home  of  his  house,  when 
he  came  in  town.  He  knocked  repeatedly, 
but  no  one  came  or  spoke.  He  ventured  to 
walk  in,  threw  off  his  cloak,  and  was  making 
his  way  to  the  sitting  room,  in  the  hope,  doubt- 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  43 

less,  of  a  cordial  christian  welcome,  that  should 
do  both  body  and  soul  good,  when  his  ancient 
host  abruptly  encountered  him.  His  looks 
were  those  of  deep  displeasure,  though  more 
of  embarrassment.  A  word  of  courtesy  was 
passed,  and  he  addressed  his  weary  friend  : — 
"I  was  independent  once,"  said  he;  "I  en- 
tertained whomsoever  I  pleased ;  1  did  as  I 
pleased.  But  now  I  am  dependent  on  friends ; 
and  my  friends  say  that  unless  I  turn  you  out 
of  doors^  they  lo'dl  wre."  Mr.  Cox  was  shocked, 
of  course,  with  such  a  reception;  but  besides 
that  he  was  quick  to  discern  and  appreciate 
the  circumstances  alluded  to  by  his  "dependent 
patron,"  he  was  on  all  occasions  as  active  to 
avoid,  not  only  a  controversy,  but  an  unpleas- 
ant word,  as  too  many  men  are  to  seek  one. 
He  instantly  thanked  the  poor  man  kindly  for 
what  he  had  done,  expressed  his  regret  at  the 
necessity,  such  as  it  was,  imposed  upon  him, 
bade  him  a  good  evening,  and  left  him.  But 
he  could  not  forget  the  incident.  As  he  with- 
drew, he  thought,  he  says,  of  these  words  : — 
"  He  that  loveth  houses  or  lands  more  than 
me,  is  not  worthy  of  me."     He  adds — 

"  I  went  directly  to  the  woods,  and  passed  the 
time  in  prayer.  At  the  hour  of  worship,  I  went 
and  preached.     A  few  moments  before  the  services 


44  MEMOIR  OF 

commenced,  the  house  took  fire,  but  it  was  soon  ex- 
tinguished. If  ever  I  preached,  I  did  that  evening. 
It  was  awfully  solemn,  and  so  silent  that  you  might 
have  heard  the  falling  of  a  pin.  I  warned  the  peo- 
ple to  flee  the  wrath  to  come,  bade  them  farewell, 
and  left  them,  for  the  want  of  either  a  place  to 
preach  in  or  accommodations  for  myself.  I  rode 
six  miles  after  sermon,  to  a  friend's,  much  com- 
forted that  I  had  once  been  counted  worthy  of  suf- 
fering for  Christ's  sake." 

But  it  was  not  all  thus,  as  a  single  passage 
will  show  : 

"  From  Hamden  I  went  to  the  District  Confer- 
ence, held  in  Fairfield  ;  from  thence  to  the  Bath 
Conference,  as  near  as  I  can  recollect.  From  this 
Conference  I  received  my  first  appointment  from 
the  bishop.  As  was  usual  in  such  cases,  with  no- 
vitiates, I  was  sent  to  '  Exeter  '  Circuit,  then  called 
the  '  Methodist  College.'  I  wept  like  a  child, 
when  I  heard  it  'read  out.'  Alone,  but  hoping  in 
God,  I  left  home,  friends,  and  almost  every  comfort, 
and  started  for  my  new  charge.  Exeter  was  a  new 
part  of  the  country,  and  the  inhabitants  generally 
poor,  though  it  had  many  precious  brethren  in  its 
humble  log  huts.  Many  of  them,  too,  were  men  of 
sterling  sense,  and  well  educated ;  but  with  an  en- 
terprise peculiar  to  New  England,  they  preferred  a 
forest,  with  good  prospects  in  future,  to  the  homes 
of  their  fathers.     We  had  many  good  seasons  to- 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  45 

gether.  Religion,  though  not  much  extended,  was 
revived  among  the  brethren,  many  prejudices  were 
softened,  and  Methodis^n,  I  believe,  assumed  a 
higher  standing  than  it  had  before." 

In  1824,  Mr.  Cox,  though  he  still  continued 
laboring,  (at  and  about  Kennebeck,  &c.)  as 
usual,  with  all  his  might — for  he  was  one  of 
those  men  who  could  not  labor  "moderately," 
as  it  is  commonly  understood — began  to  feel 
the  effects  of  his  exertions  and  exposin-es  in 
his  health.  Indeed,  this  circumstance,  instead 
of  operating  to  warn,  seemed  rather  to  hasten 
him.  He  writes,  in  one  case — "  as  if  in  antici- 
pation of  what  awaited  me,  I  Jiastened  to  do  my 
work,  under  many  apprehensions  of  soon  being 
called  to  account  for  my  stewardship.  For 
three  weeks,  nearly,  before  my  illness,  these" 
words  were  again  and  again  impressed  upon 
my  mind,  as  if  spoken  to  me — '  Your  work  is 
done.' "  It  will  be  seen  in  the  sequel,  how 
nearly  these  apprehensions  were  realized.  His 
career  as  a  preacher  in  Maine  was  already 
closed.  He  fell  sick  early  in  1825,  at  Captain 
Lord's.  And  here  he  breaks  out,  with  his 
characteristic  warm-heartedness,  in  fervent 
acknowledgments  of  the  great  kindness  with 
which  he  was  treated,  both  by  the  family  and 
by  others.     Few  persons  were   more   keenly 


46  MEMOIR  OF 

alive  to  such  tenderness  than  he  was.  Those 
who  read  this  memoir,  and  remember,  as  they 
read,  even  the  sHghtest  service  rendered  him, 
may  be  almost  certain  it  was  never  forgotten 
while  he  lived.  For  him,  injuries  were  writ- 
ten in  water,  but  kindness  in  letters  of  stone. 

In  June,  he  was  able  to  ride ;  and  he  trav- 
elled by  slow  stages  to  Belfast,  where  his 
brother  resided ;  and  there  he  remained  till  the 
last  of  August.  Here  he  received  a  proposi- 
tion from  the  bookseller  at  HallowcU,  who 
had  once  employed  him,  offering  him  his  stock 
in  trade,  with  his  "  stand,"  on  terms  of  a  very 
favorable  character,  as  he  considered  them. 
Finding  himself  disabled  from  preaching,  and 
yet  most  anxious  to  be  doing  something,  he  ac- 
cepted the  proposal,  and  went  into  trade  again. 
He  continued  in  it  over  a  year,  during  Avhich 
time  he  was  generally  unable  to  speak  aloud. 
We  need  not  go  into  details.  The  business 
turned  out  unfortunate.  He  washed  his  hands 
of  it  as  fast  as  possible — sold  out  for  the  most 
he  could  get — "  gave  up  the  last  ninepence  he 
had  in  his  pocket — and  without  a  decent  suit 
of  clothes,  and  with  borrowed  money  to  pay 
his  passage  with,  left  Hallowell "  on  the  19th  of 
November,  1826,  for  the  south — having,  how- 
ever, been  able  to  preach  once  or  twice  not 
long  previous  to  leaving. 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  47 

From  this  time  he  was  destined  to  rapid 
and  trying  vicissitudes,  which  the  condition  of 
his  heahh  poorly  qnahfied  him  to  encounter. 
This,  indeed,  was  now  completely  broken 
down,  never  to  be  restored,  though  his  energy 
and  his  ambition  for  active  nsefulness  still 
continued  as  fresh  as  before.  He  travelled  for 
some  months  in  various  directions,  searching 
for  employment,  and  hoping  at  the  same  time 
to  meet  with  a  congenial  climate.  He  con- 
cluded to  establish  himself  in  Maryland ;  and 
here  were  experienced,  within  the  brief  space 
of  a  year  or  two,  both  his  happiest  and  most 
keenly  afflicted  days.  It  would  almost  have 
seemed  the  intention  of  the  overruling  Provi- 
dence which  ordered  his  steps,  to  try  him  with 
all  that  he  could  bear  of  both  extremes,  in  the 
shortest  possible  allowance  of  the  little  time 
which  remained  to  him. 

It  was  here  that  he  married,  on  the  7th  of 
February,  1828,  Ellen,  the  daughter  of  Mrs. 
CroniAvell  Lee;  and  never,  probably,  on  earth, 
was  a  union  which  promised  more  satisfaction 
to  the  parties,  or  one  that,  for  the  brief  space 
it  lasted,  produced  more.  Her  character  ap- 
pears to  have  united  every  lovely  trait  which 
even  a  fond  husband  could  desire,  and  the  af- 
fection between  them  was  most  fervent,  and 
interrupted  only  by  death  itself    He  lived  with 


40  MEMOIR  OF 

her  some  months  in  the  family  of  her  mother, 
(a  lady  whom  he  mentions  always  in  terms 
similar  to  those  applied  to  his  own,)  about  ten 
miles  ont  of  Baltimore,  where,  at  her  solicita- 
tion, he  occasionally  assumed  the  direction  of 
her  beautiful  estate,  and  became  gradually  a 
good  deal  engrossed  in  the  pleasing  cares  of 
the  charge.  Some  of  his  letters  written  at  this 
period,  from  "Clover  Hill,"  are  filled  with  ag- 
ricultural sketches,  and  convey  a  lively  idea  of 
the  interest  he  took  in  his  new  labors.  They 
were  probably  found  favorable  to  his  health, 
especially  as  they  not  only  afibrded  him  little 
temptation  to  exhaust  his  remaining  strength 
in  professional  services,  but,  with  his  other 
domestic  duties,  so  entirely  occupied  him  as 
to  prevent  much  of  the  corroding  mieasiness 
which  he  generally  felt  when  deprived  of  such 
opportunities.  "Once  in  two  weeks,"  he  says, 
"  we  are  visited  by  our  circuit  preacher,  who 
finds  a  congregation  of  from  50  to  100  to 
preach  to,  in  a  little  church  about  the  size  of  a 
large  school  house.  Our  house  is  a  home  for 
him  when  he  pleases  to  call,  and  I  assure  you 
"we  look  with  pleasure  when  he  is  expected. 
*  *  I  preach  but  seldom.  My  lungs  are 
still  too  weak  to  speak  with  ease."  This  is 
the  picture  of  a  quiet  life — very  unlike  what  he 
had  been  accustomed  to — still  more  strangely 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  49 

contrasted  with  the  sequel,  which  remained  as 
yet  undisclosed. 

He  removed  to  the  city  in  process  of  time, 
and  became  the  editor  of  a  weekly  religious 
paper  called  the  Itinerant,  which,  though  ably 
conducted,  proved  more  laborious  than  profita- 
ble, and  ended  with  leaving  him  burthened 
with  debt.  But  meanwhile,  more  serious 
grievances  were  impending.  The  blue  sky  of 
his  life  was  overcast,  never  to  be  bright  again. 
The  story  is  soon  told,  and  it  is  too  painful 
to  dwell  upon.  "Surely,"  he  says  himself, 
months  afterwards,  as  he  looked  back,  "  surely 
I  have  passed  (if  it  were  right  to  call  afflic- 
tions such)  a  moonless  night,  the  year  that  is 
gone  (1830.)  Three  brothers-in-law,  a  dear 
wife,  and  a  sweet  little  child,  (beside  two  bil- 
ious attacks  upon  myself,  and  one  on  a  sister- 
in-law  at  my  house,)  have  followed  each  other 
to  the  grave  in  rapid  and  melancholy  succes- 
sion." These  were  indeed  severe  trials,  to  fol- 
low so  closely  a  period  of  such  enjoyment,  and 
especially  for  a  man  of  the  ardent  temperament 
of  Cox.  Now  was  the  time  to  test  the  strength 
of  his  character,  and  the  value  of  his  religion. 
Nothing  else  could  support  him ;  and  this  was 
sufficient  for  the  crisis.  Even  as  he  tells  over 
the  list  of  his  losses,  with  a  heart  still  bleed- 
ing, he  adds — 
4 


50  MEMOIR  OF 

•'  It  is  well.  If  I  only  have  rig-hteousness  by- 
things  which  I  have  suffered,  I  am  content.  It  is  all 
nothing,  when  put  in  competition  with  the  smallest 
degree  of  moral  improvement.  Whom  God  loveth. 
he  chasteneth.  If  it  all  end  in  the  fruition  of  a  holy 
and  joyous  hope,  I  may  hail  it  as  a  means,  in  the 
hands  of  God,  of  the  salvation  of  my  soul." 

This  spirit  we  find  even  in  those  letters  to 
intimate  friends,  written  in  the  deepest  gloom 
of  his  bereavements,  which  dwell  most  feelingly 
on  the  then  absorbing  subject  of  his  thoughts. 
The  following  is  without  a  date  : 

"  Mv  DEAR  AND  ONLY  Brother  : — Your  last  gave 
a  momentary  consolation  ;  I  read  in  it  the  deep  feel- 
ing of  a  brother  for  a  brother's  weal,  both  in  this 
and  in  another  world.  But  an  almost  broken  heart 
Avho  can  comfort,  but  God  ?  The  fearful  cloud  has 
broken — the  dreaded  moment  has  come — and  I  am 
alone.  My  dear,  dear  wife  is  no  more.  She  died 
on  Thursday  morning,  at  twenty  minutes  past  one ; 
and  was  buwed  on  New  Year's  Day.  Bitter  in- 
deed, my  brother,  would  seem  my  cup,  if  God  had 
not  prepared  it.  But  I  know,  I  feel,  that  he  is  too 
wise  to  err,  and  too  good  to  be  unkind.  Yet  I  have 
feelings  that  none  can  tell — hours  of  loneliness  that 
seem  almost  a  void  in  duration.  But  God  hath 
been  better  than  my  fears — '  he  hath  helped  me  ; ' 
and  the  pangs,  the  recollections,  the  touching  scenes 
through   which  I  have   passed,   might  have   even 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  51 

pained  a  heart  far  less  sensitive  than  mine,  had  he 
not,  in  my  great  Aveakness,  vouchsafed  the  support 
of  his  grace  in  an  unusual  manner.  What  seems 
to  have  given  point  to  the  arrow  of  death  is,  that 
she  died  a  few  moments  after  giving  'premature  birth 
to  another  pledge  of  our  constant  and  mutual  love. 
The  cause.,  however,  was  a  chronic  diarrhoea,  which 
kindness  of  friends  nor  skill  of  physicians  could 
relieve. 

"  But  my  Zoss,  I  believe,  is  her  infinite  gain.  For 
most  of  the  time  during  her  protracted  illness,  there 
seemed  a  want  of  confidence  in  every  answer  ;  but 
blessed  be  God  forever  and  ever,  three  days  before 
her  death,  she  partook  of  the  broken  body  and  spilled 
blood  of  a  dear  Redeemer.  This  awakened  all  her 
feelings  for  a  brighter  evidence.  She  cried  to  God, 
and  he  heard  her,  tranquillized  her  mind,  and  gave 
her  that  assurance,  I  trust,  which  sustains  in  nature's 
dying  struggle.  The  following  are  some  of  her 
expressions  : — To  a  minister  who  had  called  to  pray 
with  her,  she  said — '  I  want  a  bright,  unerring  evi- 
dence of  my  acceptance  with  God,  before  I  can  be 
reconciled  to  leave  this  (taking  hold  of  my  hand) 
dearest,  tenderest  and  best  of  husbands.  I  cannot 
rest  void  of  it.  I  want  the  faith  that  wrestles  con- 
stantly with  God — that  says,  I  will  not  let  thee  go, 
unless  thou  bless  me.  Lord,  thou  hast  blessed  me, 
and  wilt  thou  not  again  ?  Is  mercy  clean  gone  for- 
ever ?  0  Sun  of  Righteousness,  arise,  with  healing 
in  thy  wings.     Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed  feel 


52  MEMOIR  OF 

soft  as  downy  pillows  are.  Then,  come  life  or 
death,  all  is  well.'  Her  mother  mentioned  to  her 
that  she  had  often  comforted  many  a  weary  soul. 
'  Do  n't  tell  me,  my  dear  Mother,'  said  she,  '  any- 
thing that  I  have  done  ;  I  am  a  poor  smwer.' 

"  At  another  season  of  prayer,  after  the  above,  she 
said,  with  great  fervency — '  Oh,  pray ! — every  hreath 
should  be  a  breath  of  praj'cr.  I  never  can  .praise 
God  enough.  I  will  exhaust  mj-self  in  his  praise:  ' 
and  immediately,  witli  a  feeble  voice,  commenced 
singing — 

*  And  let  tliis  feeble  body  fail, 

And  let  it  faint  and  die  ; 
My  soul  sliall  quit  this  mournful  vail, 

And  soar  to  worlds  on  high.' 

Her  friends  then  commenced  singing — '  How  happy 
every  child  of  grace  ;  '  and  she  joined  through  the 
whole.  When  she  came  to  the  clause — '  I  feel  the 
resurrection  near,'  she  stopped,  and  seemed  in  an 
ecstacy,  and  cried  out — '  Blessed  be  God ! ' 
"  I  cannot  say  anymore  in  this." 

The  following  bears  date  the  27th  of  Jan- 
uary, 1830. 

"  I  am  indeed  deeply  afflicted,  my  dear  brother;  too 
deeply  to  write — too  deeply  to  utter  it.  My  heart 
feels  ready  to  break  forth  like  waters.  I  mourn  in 
silence,  by  day  and  by  night,  the  absence  of  one  who 
would  console  when  distressed,  and  support  when 
weary.     I  feel  a  loneliness  which  mocks  the  power 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  53 

of  language.  '  Lover  and  friend  has  been  put  far 
from  me,  and  mine  acquaintance  into  darkness.' 
Hitherto  it  has  seemed  but  a  dream,  in  which  thought 
had  scarcely  a  consciousness  of  exertion ;  but  now  all 
is  a  reality.  '  I  go  back — she  is  not  there  ; '  and  if  I 
go  forward,  '  I  find  her  not.'  My  room — my  bed — 
ah,  my  brother,  can  you.  feel  as  I  feel  when  I  revisit 
them  ?  Fain  would  I  call  her  back,  or  hear  the 
whispers  of  her  friendly  spirit.  But  the  grave  cov- 
ers her  emaciated  form,  and  the  worm  perhaps  al- 
ready riots  on  what  was  so  dear  and  so  lovely  in 
life.  I  sincerely  believe  the  world  has  not  her 
equal,  in  some,  at  least,  of  the  most  essential  virtues. 
She  sought  no  pleasure,  no  company,  but  mine. 
Her  house  was  her  home,  and  if  it  numbered  me 
and  our  little  one,  it  was  enough.  Her  image  is 
constantly  before  me,  awaking  each  kind,  endearing 
look,  bestowed  in  sickness  and  health — but  only  to 
tell  me  I  shall  enjoy  them  no  more. 

"  I  see,  too,  her  dear  form  struggling  in  sickness, 
and  hear  in  each  moaning  wind  the  tale  of  her  ex- 
cruciating sufferings.  In  her  sickness,  I  was  too  sick 
to  afford  those  attentions  health  would  have  enabled 
me  to  show.  I  could  only  kneel  by  her  side,  and 
weep  that  I  could  not  relieve  her  ;  and  at  her  death, 
I  could  not  realize  that  she  was  gone,  nor  feel  how 
great  was  my  loss.  But  now  there  is  no  dreaming 
— all  is  real;  no  mingled  fear  and  hope — all  is 
stern  truth.  Ellen  is  no  more.  Well,  be  it  so,  my 
dear  brother.     Sometimes  my  path  seems  a  thorny 


64  MEMOIR  OF 

one ;  but  God  is  infinitely  better — yes,  I  feel  that  he 
is  infinitely  better  to  me,  than  I  deserve.  Wise  pur- 
poses may  be  accomplished  by  this.  Sure  I  am 
that  I  was  unworthy  of  so  great  a  blessing.  She 
was  taken  from  evil  to  come  ;  and  the  future  may 
show  to  vie  the  ill  she  was  unable  to  bear." 

To  his  sister,  he  expresses  himself,  if  possi- 
ble, in  still  more  toiicliing  terms.  But  enough 
has  been  cited  to  illustrate  the  points  of  his 
character  which  it  was  to  be  expected  the  cir- 
cumstances of  these  afflictions  would  draw 
forth ;  and  the  subject  is  too  melancholy  to  be 
dwelt  upon  beyond  what  is  necessary  to  such 
a  development. 

His  health,  at  this  time,  was  nearly  as  bad 
as  it  could  be.  His  fever  had  left  him  without 
strength,  and  his  lungs  were  so  irritable  that 
almost  the  slightest  exertion  of  his  voice,  even 
in  the  way  of  conversation,  was  a  source  of 
severe  pain.  It  is  a  striking  indication  of  the 
force  of  his  character,  that,  under  these  circum- 
stances, he  not  only  did  not  entirely  yield  to 
them,  but  his  mind  was  filled  with  schemes  of 
activity,  which  scarcely  suffered  him  to  rest 
for  a  moment.  He  had  concluded  that  he 
must  go  farther  south ;  but  the  question  was, 
what  he  should  do, — for  he  could  not  endure 
the  thought  of  being  useless.  Movements  were 
made  for  a  newspaper,  but  failed.     He  then 


MELVILLE   B.  COX,  55 

pondered  the  notion  of  travelling  with  a  view 
to  collect  facts  for  the  composition  of  a  His- 
tory of  American  Methodism,  which  he  be- 
Ueved  to  be  much  needed.  Other  projects 
were  discussed.  Finally,  he  received  a  com- 
mission from  his  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Fisk, 
to  act  as  an  agent  to  collect  subscriptions  in 
behalf  of  the  Wesleyan  University;  and  his 
journal  shows  that  he  labored  some  in  this 
vocation  before  leaving  Baltimore.  But  it  did 
not  suit  him,  nor  his  situation ;  neither  would 
anything  have  induced  him  to  engage  in  any 
species  of  mere  secular  business.  Thus  he  re- 
mained— anxiously  seeking  for  something  to 
do,  while,  in  fact,  he  was  unfit  for  doing  any- 
thing— till,  in  February,  1831,  we  find  him 
suddenly  resolved  "i^o  go  and  offer  myself,  all 
broken  down  as  I  am,  to  the  Virginia  Confer- 
ence." "If  they  will  receive  me,"  he  adds, 
"  I  will  ask  for  an  effective  relation  [charge.] 
Then,  live  or  die,  if  the  Lord  will,  I  shall  be 
in  the  travelling  connection.  Out  of  it  I  am 
unhappy  ;  and  if  not  watchful,  I  may  wander 
from  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel."  This  reso- 
lution was  formed  at  Annapolis,  whither  he 
had  travelled,  in  the  midst  of  the  severities  of 
the  coldest  season  and  roughest  travelling  of 
the  year — slender  and  sick  as  he  was — with 
the  view  of  directing  his  lonely  steps  as  far  as 


56  MEMOIR  OF 

Georgia.  The  idea  of  preaching  again,  wild 
as  it  may  seem,  was  perhaps  not  without  jus- 
tification in  the  principles  of  common  sense, 
even  for  a  man  who  had  already  sacrificed 
himself,  as  Mr.  Cox  was  aware  he  had  done, 
to  his  earnestness  in  his  cause.  That  employ- 
ment was  congenial  to  him.  He  longed  to  be 
engaged  in  it  again ;  and  disabled  as  he  was 
from  doing  almost  everything  else,  it  is  not 
improbable  that  the  misery  of  lying  idle,  or  of 
being  undetermined,  to  a  mind  like  his,  might 
have  affected  his  health  itself  more  unfavorably 
than  even  an  ardent  renewal  of  his  favorite 
pursuits.  In  other  respects,  it  met  his  desires 
precisely.  '"I  can  only  die,"  he  says;  "and 
perhaps  that  were  better  than  a  long  and  use- 
less life."  It  was,  no  doubt,  a  difiicult  case  to 
decide,  and  he  felt  its  perplexities,  and  labored 
and  prayed  fervently  to  be  rightly  guided ;  but 
on  the  whole,  his  heart  was  fixed;  and,  as 
he  somewhere  says,  it  beat  with  joy  at  the 
thought.  He  only  regretted  ever  leaving  the 
ministry : 

"  Had  I  not,  I  might  to  be  sure  have  been  in  my 
grave,  but  I  believe  it  would  have  been  a  triumphant 
end.  Life  is  of  no  consequence — nay,  it  is  worse 
than  useless,  unless  it  be  profitable  to  others  and 
ourselves.  I  do  not  say  a  man  may  not  accomplish 
even  as  much  good  by  suffering  as  by  doing  the 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  57 

will  of  God ;  but  my  impression  is,  that  I  was  not 
only  called  to  the  ministry,  but  there  to  spend  my 
life — there  to  die  !  And  I  most  devoutly  pray  to 
God,  if  it  be  his  will,  that  there  I  may  fall,  crowned, 
not  with  gold,  nor  with  a  diadem  of  worldly  honor, 
but  with  the  honors  of  the  '  cross  of  Christ.'  I  see 
much  that  I  think  might  have  been  saved  ;  I  lament, 
too,  a  want  of  gospel  simplicity  and  heavenly  mind- 
edness.  I  pray  that  God  would  protect  me  from  it 
in  future.  A  minister,  it  is  said,  should  be,  like  the 
Avife  of  Csesar,  '  above  suspicion.'  His  countenance, 
his  manners,  his  dress,  should  all  speak  to  every 
man,  of  the  dignity  and  divinity  of  his  high  and 
holy  mission.  Oh  that  the  love  of  the  world,  its  hab- 
its, maxims,  and  everything  of  it  not  in  accordance 
with  the  pattern  set  by  the  Saviour  of  the  world) 
might  be  crucified  to  death  within  me. 

'  The  dearest  idol  I  have  known, 

Whate'er  that  idol  be. 
Help  me  to  tear  it  from  thy  throne, 

And  worship  only  thee.'  " 

Full  of  these  views,  he  left  Annapolis  for 
Norfolk,  and  thence,  after  a  short  visit,  trav- 
elled by  slow  stages,  as  he  was  able  to  bear 
the  movement,  to  the  Conference  at  Newbern.* 

*  "  I  dined  in  North  Carolina,"  says  the  journal  of  the  9th 
of  the  month,  "and  my  companion  in  Virginia,  though  both 
of  us  sat  at  the  same  table."  This  was  at  the  half-way 
house  between  Norfolk  and  Elizabeth  City. 


68  MEMOIR  OF 

Here  he  received  an  appointment  to  Raleigh. 
We  quote  from  the  journal — the  best  evidence 
of  his  feelings  : — 

"  I  am  now  a  member  of  the  Virginia  Conference. 
I  have  asked,  too,  for  an  effective  relation.  What  a 
fearful  duty,  with  my  state  of  health !  But,  live  or 
die,  I  have  passed  the  resolution  to  work  in  the  cause. 
The  Lord  grant  me  strength  to  fulfil  it.  Oh  !  that  in 
his  infinite  mercy,  he  would  restore  and  sustain  my 
health. 

"  Saturday,  19. — To-day,  for  the  first  time  for 
months,  have  I  attempted  to  preach  the  gospel  of 
Christ.  I  went  to  the  pulpit  with  some  sense,  I 
trust,  of  the  divine  prese7ice,  and  preached  from — 'Is 
the  Lord  among  us  or  not  ? ' 

"  I  made  but  little  exertion — but  little  effort ;  still  I 
trust  it  was  not  altogether  in  vain.  There  seemed 
to  be  much  feeling  in  the  congregation,  and  much  in 
myself  Everything  appeared  pleasant,  and  left  me 
less  exhausted  than  J  had  feared.  I  have  now  noth- 
ing before  me,  but  to  preach  and  die.  Oh  that  God 
would  help,  sustain,  and  direct  me.  I  have  no  evi- 
dence, however,  feeble  as  I  am,  that  I  shall  die  the 
sooner  by  moderately  exerting  my  lungs.  I  vtay, 
and  I  may  live  the  longer  for  it.  This  is  not  within 
my  province.  My  calling  I  have  thought  to  be  that 
of  preaching  the  gospel.  I  know  of  nothing  in 
Scripture  which  requires  me  to  forsake  it,  though 
fallen.     I  may  yet  rise ;  but  if  not,  I  feel  safer  in 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  59 

the  travelling  ministry  than  out  of  it.  Others  can 
do  as  they  think  right ;  this,  at  present,  seems  my 
task.     And  I  only  pray  that  '■God  may  be  with  me.'' " 

Mr.  Cox  proceeded  from  Newbern,  as  fast 
as  he  was  able,  to  his  station  at  Raleigh,  and 
there  entered  at  once  on  the  discharge  of  his 
duties.  The  result  was  such  as  most  of  our 
readers  must  have  made  up  their  minds  to  ex- 
pect. It  was  an  earnest,  constant,  laborious 
struggle  between  disease  and  determination, 
with  various  degrees  of  superiority  sometimes 
apparent  in  either,  but  even  its  victory  going,  on 
the  whole,  against  the  body.  It  is  wonderful  to 
what  exertions  the  "willingness  "  of  the  spirit 
— and  especially  of  such  a  spirit — will  occa- 
sionally arouse  the  feeblest  frame;  and  there 
are  few  instances  of  this  all-powerful  religious 
energy  more  striking  than  the  one  before  us. 
But  these  advantages,  in  many  cases,  are  too 
frequently  gained  at  great  expense.  They 
were  so  in  this.  They  wore  him  out  more  and 
more,  in  spite  of  himself  He  rallied,  and  re- 
turned to  the  contest  again,  but  again  he  was 
beat  back,  and  again  and  again,  till  finally 
nothing  remained  for  him  but  to  drag  his  fag- 
ged forces  altogether  from  the  field.  It  would 
be  curious,  though  melancholy,  to  trace  the 
fortunes  of  the  battle  with  more  minuteness,  as 


60  MEMOIR  OF 

shadowed  forth  in  the  journal ;  and  tlie  more  so 
as  the  truth  has  been  told  with  such  evident 
simplicity,  and  withal,  so  little  with  the  idea 
in  the  writer's  mind  of  making  out  what  would 
even  appear  as  a  continuous  and  single  sketch. 
On  the  morning  after  his  first  sermon,  the 
journal  assumes  rather  an  encouraging  tone. 
He  felt  exhaustion,  and  pain  too, — he  had 
scarcely  even  conversed  moderately  for  five 
years  without  feeling  it, — but  less  than  he  had 
anticipated.  The  thought  of  what  he  may 
yet  do  kindles  in  him  like  a  flame : — 

"  I  never  felt  more  hope  of  yet  being  able  to 
preach  than  now.  Who  knows  but  that  I  yet  may 
be  able  to  preach  twice  on  the  Sabbath  ?  Who 
knows  but  God  has  work  for  me  to  do  here,  which 
another  could  not  have  accomplished  ?  Ohi  I  do 
pray,  that  he  who  directed  a  Jacob,  may  have  di- 
rected my  appointment,  and  that  he  will  be  with  me, 
and  bless  my  labors  for  this  people. 

"  I  pity  the  people — have  no  doubt  they  are  dis- 
appointed. But  this,  God  can  overrule  for  their 
good.  He  can  bring  hght  out  of  obscurity.  If  here 
I  fall,  I  have  but  one  prayer  : — May  I  go  in  the 
faith  and  triumph  of  the  humble  christian.  Life 
certainly  is  of  no  consequence,  except  so  far  as  it 
prepares  us  and  others  for  a  future  world.  It  is  the 
good  we  accomplish,  not  the  number  of  days  we 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  61 

live.  And  with  this  view,  a  short  life,  if  it  answer 
life's  great  end,  is  the  better  one.  Ah,  me — why 
am  I  so  slow  to  believe  ?  Does  not  God  number  the 
hairs  of  my  head  ?  Will  he  forget  even  me  ?  Ah, 
no  !  he  has  pledged  his  promise.  I  will  venture 
upon  it.  I  will  lean  upon  his  almighty  arm.  And 
then,  if  I  fall  or  rise,  I  am  alike  safe  in  the  protection 
of  him  who  holds  the  keys  of  life  and  death  in  his 
own  hands  ?  Oh  God,  increase  my  faith.  Com- 
mission me  anew.  Anoint  me  afresh  for  the  work 
committed  to  my  charge.  Oh  let  my  word  be  as  the 
thunder's  voice,  though  uttered  in  tones  scarcely 
audible.  Give  energy  to  thy  truth.  Let  thy  word, 
though  spoken  by  a  worm  of  earth,  be  as  a  hammer 
to  break  in  pieces,  and  as  a  fire  to  burn." 

Immediately  after  this  animated  passage, 
we  find  him  lamenting  that  his  eyes  failed  him 
as  well  as  his  lungs,  and  that  reading  had  be- 
come painful.  The  next  day,  he  acted  as  a 
preacher  in  charge  for  the  first  time  in  five 
years,  and  made  a  zealons  day's  work  of  his 
duties.  Then  came  pain  in  the  night  after — 
pain  between  the  shoulders,  and  in  the  breast — 
and  the  physical  effect  of  the  preaching  seemed 
just  now  to  have  become  apparent ;  and  then 
he  begins  to  reason  again  on  his  course,  and  to 
pray  God  to  direct  him.  On  the  Sunday  fol- 
lowing, the  journal  runs  thus  : 


62  MEMOIR  OF 

"  I  have  preached  again,  till  I  was  nearly  exhaust- 
ed. I  cannot  but  hope,  from  the  appearance  of  so- 
lemnity, and  evidence  of  divine  influence,  that  some 
special  good  will  result  from  the  labors  of  the  even- 
ing. Oh  my  God!  shake  terribly  this  place.  Oh, 
breathe  over  its  inhabitants.  Speak  with  that  voice 
to  sinners  which  will  awake  the  dead.  Oh,  come, 
come,  my  dear  Redeemer  ;  come  in  mercy  to  this 
people,  and  save  the  purchase  of  thy  blood. 

"  I  preached  one  hour  and  ten  minutes.  I  will 
try  to  do  better  next  time.  How  much,  and  how 
painfully  we  have  to  learn  wisdom.  God  of  good- 
ness, save  my  feeble  lungs  from  any  evil  effects  from 
this  evening's  labor. 

"  I  feel  much  more  sensibly  my  evening's  labor, 
than  at  this  night  week.  My  pulse  assumes  its  old 
fretfulness  and  frequency." 

The  next  extract  succeeds  at  the  interval  of 
a  fortnight,  and  shows  him  still  inidiscouraged. 
A  good  deal  of  aid  which  "was  promised  him 
at  this  time,  had  failed.  He  was  also  wnthout 
"local  help,"  which  he  greatly  regretted. 

"  For  four  weeks  now  in  succession,  I  have 
preached  once  a  week, — a  labor  I  have  not  performed 
in  the  same  time  for  nearly  six  years.  And  yet, 
though  I  had  thought  it  might  kill  me,  I  am  not 
certain  that  I  am  really  and  truly  the  worse  for  it. 
At  this  viovient,  to  be  sure,  I  feel  a  great  weakness 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  63 

of  the  lungs.  I  feel  exhausted  ;  but  I  hope  by  six 
days  more,  to  be  as  able  to  talk  as  when  at  Balti- 
more." 

Again  : 

"  Thought  it  better  to  stay  at  home  this  evening, 
than  to  trust  myself  at  a  prayer  meeting.  It  is  diffi- 
cult for  a  minister  to  sit,  and  say  nothing,  through  a 
whole  prayer  meeting  ;  and  my  lungs  are  too  feeble 
for  exercise."         #         =^         ^         #  #         #: 

"  Saturday,  March  19. — I  begin  to  feel  more  and 
more,  that  my  having  joined  the  Conference  is  all 
for  the  best.  If  /  die,  I  think  it  will  be  so.  I  feel 
happier,  more  given  up  to  God,  more  commun- 
ion with  him,  more  confidence  in  his  protection.  I 
feel  a  sweetness  in  its  contemplation,  that  I  have 
not  for  a  long  time.  I  do  not  think  that  I  am  sanc- 
tified, but  I  am  '  groaning  for  it.'  I  want  a  holy 
heart.  And  he  who  has  begotten  the  struggle  for  it, 
I  trust  will  grant  it  unto  me.  1  want  to  knoio  all 
that  a  man  can  knoxo  of  God  and  live.''''  ^         ^ 

"  Sunday,  20. — I  hope  my  brethren  will  bear 
with  my  weakness  for  a  little  while.  I  may  yet  be 
able  to  supply  the  place  of  an  effective  man.  My 
soul  at  this  moment  feels  a  little  dull.  But  oh,  I 
pray  that  God  may  speak  to-day  to  some  one.  I 
long  to  hear  of  one,  who  has  been  pricked  to  the 
heart,  through  my  instrumentality,  in  Raleigh. 

"  I  know  the  soul  is  ■precious.  I  feel  sensibly  that 
it  outweighs  worlds  !     But  I  cannot  make   others 


64  MEMOIR    OF 

feel  it.  Did  sinners  see  what  I  see,  and  feel  what  I 
feel,  there  would  be  no  rest  for  them,  till  they  had 
an  assurance  of  salvation. 

"  I  am  sure  that  the  soul  which  is  eternally  saved, 
at  the  expense  of  human  life,  costs  nothing,  compared 
with  its  real  value.  But  God  requires  not  murder 
for  sacrifice. 

"I  have  preached  once  more.  I  think  I  did  a  lit- 
tle better  than  on  the  last  Sabbath ;  still  I  preached 
too  long.     When  shall  I  overcome  it  ?  " 

This  effort  reduced  him  probably  more  than 
usual,  but  it  will  be  seen  that  the  effect  seemed, 
after  all,  to  be  chiefly  to  suggest  to  his  restless 
mind,  more  vividly  than  ever,  the  thought  of 
what  must  be  done! 

"  I  am  much  exhausted.  I  am  fearful  that  gen- 
eral debility  will  soon  unite  with  local.  Should  it, 
why,  I  must  die.  I  only  pray — '  Lord,  prepare  me 
for  it,'  and  it  is  of  the  least  consequence  when  I 
meet  it.  I  should  be  glad  to  live ;  to  preach  the 
gospel ;  enjoy  its  consolations ;  to  see  sinners  con- 
verted, and  christians  built  up  in  virtue  and  holiness; 
to  see  my  dear  family  and  friends,  my  mother, 
brother,  and  dear  sister  ;  and  last,  though  not  least, 
to  leave  in  the  form  of  a  book,  a  legacy  to  careless 
sinners.  I  have  the  outlines  in  my  mind,  and 
sketched  on  paper.  I  doubt,  however,  if  it  ever  be 
accomplished.  Should  I  live  all  this  year,  I  think  it 
will.     Oh  that,  if  done,  it  may  speak  as  with  a  thun- 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  65 

der's  voice,  when  the  hand  that  shall  have  penned 
it,  is  mouldering  in  the  tomb. 

"  But  though  these  be  my  desires,  they  may  not 
be  for  my  good.  God,  for  aught  that  I  know,  may 
say  to  this  poor,  fainting,  suffering,  worn  out,  and 
dying  body,  '  It  is  enough.'  I  can  do  but  little  here, 
at  best.  Should  I  be  permitted  to  enter  the  '  holy 
place,'  disease  and  painful  suffering,  shall  no  longer 
cut  short  my  energies." 

About  the  first  of  April,  his  health  became 
such  that  his  physician  forbade  his  farther  la- 
boring, "for  the  present;"  but  in  a  fortnight, 
we  find  him  preachhig  again — that  is,  once  on 
the  Sabbath  ;  and  it  should  be  understood  that 
his  congregation  were  often  disappointed  of 
a  service  he  had  engaged  for  them,  by  the 
failure  of  the  persons  relied  on,  to  appear  in 
season.  This  fact,  and  the  circumstance  that 
an  unusual  interest  began  to  be  manifested 
by  some  of  his  people,  and  sometimes  other 
peculiar  trials,  operated  forcibly  to  increase 
the  difficulty  of  a  self-denial  less  rigid  than  he 
practised.    He  says  in  one  place  : — "  I  attended 

church.     Brother  B disajyjwinted  us.     In 

attempting  to  do  something  myself,  I  was  al- 
most entirely  prostrated."  His  great  anxiety 
was  not,  as  might  be  inferred  from  some  of 
these  detached  remarks,  about  himself,  for  his 
own  sake.  It  was  for  his  people ;  and  the  consid- 
5 


66  MEMOIR  OF 

eration  of  their  necessities  compelled  him,  ere 
long,  most  reluctantly  to  resign  the  charge  of 
the  station  into  other  hands.  He  gave  up,  at 
this  time,  his  long  cherished  yearnings  for 
"effective  service,"  though  he  continued  anx- 
iously laboring,  as  he  found  opportunity. 

"  Saturday,  June  4, — I  am  better  to-day.  My 
pulse  has  fallen  from  a  hundred  and  over,  to  seventy- 
five.  A  vegetable  diet,  I  believe,  is  good  for  me.  It 
may  be  that  I  yet  may  get  well. 

"  I  feel  very  sensibly  the  loss  of  preaching.  I 
know  not  how  it  is  with  others ;  but  it  seems  harder 
for  me  to  live  as  I  should  as  a  sufferer,  than  as  an 
active  laborer.  When  I  can  preach,  the  worth  of 
souls,  the  sense  of  responsibility  which  rests  upon  a 
minister  of  God,  make  too  deep  an  impression  vipon 
my  feelings  to  give  them  time  to  cleave  to  earth. 
The  labor  and  the  prize,  time  and  eternity,  seem  but 
as  one  and  the  same  thing ; — but  a  moment,  and  the 
whole  will  be  realized."  ^  #  *  # 

"June  21. — This  day,  one  year,  I  lost  my  little 
rose-bud.  Dear  little  one,  thy  father  loved  thee,  but 
God  loved  thee  more.  Thou  art  now  safe.  Storms 
cannot  blow  upon  thee,  nor  can  danger  either  injure 
or  alarm  thee.  Thou  art  in  heaven.  This  moment 
sweet  praise  falls  from  thy  infant  tongue,  to  Him 
who  loved  thee,  and  gave  himself  for  thee.  Happy 
little  spirit,  and  happy  he  who,  under  God,  gave 
birth  to  thy  immortal  existence,  in  the  thought  that 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  67 

his  child  is  loith  God.  Oh,  that  it  may  stimulate  the 
father  to  holiness — to  a  watchful  vigilance,  thought 
and  action.  God  of  goodness,  help  me  to  live  for 
thee,  and  for  thee  to  die.  Oh  !  fix  my  heart  more 
constantly  upon  thee.  Dry  up  the  fountain  of  sin, 
O  God  !  let  me  meet  the  child  of  my  hopes  and  its 
mother,  with  thee  in  heaven." 

Under  the  depressing  circumstances  to  which 
these  various  extracts  allude,  and  some  others 
to  which  they  do  not,  it  must  have  been  a 
source  of  great  comfort  to  a  heart  like  Mr. 
Cox's,  to  meet  everywhere,  as  he  did,  with 
the  kindest  personal  treatment,  from  those  who 
proved  themselves  his  true  friends.  This  fact 
is  illustrative  of  his  character ;  for  it  was 
not  an  interest  felt  in  him  for  his  profession, 
or  for  his  religion's  sake,  alone.  It  was  not 
merely  a  respect,  but  a  tender  affection.  He 
somewhere  says  himself, — for  he  felt  it  most 
keenly — in  reference  to  attentions  he  received 
in  the  course  of  an  excursion  of  a  month  or 
two,  made  during  the  summer  he  passed  at 
Raleigh,  as  far  as  Hillsborough,  and  in  portions 
of  the  neighboring  counties, — "  In  the  midst  of 
afflictions  I  am  surrounded  with  many  bless- 
ings. The  Lord  gives  me  friends  ivherever  I  go. 
Strangers  become  as  fathers^  mothers,  sisters 
and  brothers.  Oh !  that  God  would  bless  my 
"benefactors!"     Here  is  a  beautiful  instance: 


68  MEMOIR  OF 

"  Tuesday,  July  12. — Left  Hillsborough  at  half 
past  five  in  the  morning,  for  the  Sulphur  Springs  in 
Virginia.  Mrs.  Blount  has  been  more  than  kind  to 
me.  She  sent  for  me  to  Raleigh ;  has  kept  me  for 
three  weeks  with  all  the  kindness  of  a  sister  ;  put 
her  carriage  and  horse  at  my  command ;  tendered 
me  her  horse,  gig  and  servant,  to  go  to  the  Springs ; 
and,  to  overshadow  the  whole,  when  I  left  her  this 
morning,  she  slipped  into  my  hand  a  note  enclosing 
eighty  dollars !  " 

Again : 

"  Saturday,  Oct.  1. — I  have  just  left  Major  and 

Mrs.  H .     I  have  spent  with   them  about  five 

weeks  very  pleasantly,  though  most  of  the  time  con- 
fined to  my  bed.  They  have  treated  me  with  great 
kindness — gave  me  up  their  own  sleeping  room — ■ 
and  went  up  stairs  for  my  convenience.  I  pray  that 
God  may  reward  them.  I  want  to  leave  a  blessing 
behind  me — not  that  of  silver  and  gold,  but  the  bless- 
ing of  a  merciful  and  compassionate  God.  He  can 
sanctify  the  weakest  means  for  their  spiritual  good. 

"  I  am  now  at  Brother  L 's,  a  young  gentle- 
man who  was  once  a  travelling  preacher,  but  located 
for  the  want  of  health.  He  has  been  exceedingly 
kind  to  me,  and  offers  me  a  home  while  I  am  sick, 

whether  it  be  a  short  or  a  long  time.     Mrs.  L 

has  given  me  up  her  drawing-room.  Surely  this  is 
the  kindness  of  friends — friends  whose  hearts  know 
well  the  mellowing  influences  of  the  gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ." 


MELVILLE   B,  COX,  69 

Of  his  female  friends  he  says — 

*'  Some  sisters  are  among  them,  and  now  and  then 
one  who  approaches  near  the  character  of  a  mother. 

One,  Mrs.  R C ,  I  have  cause  to  hold  in 

the  most  grateful  remembrance.  Her  taste,  her 
feelings,  her  situation  and  standing  in  society,  just 
fit  her  to  do  for  me  what  others  usually  forget.  She 
has  not  loaded  me  with  silver  or  gold,  nor  clothed 
me  in  scarlet ;  but  she  is  always  adding  to  my  com- 
fort. If  a  cravat  become  old,  a  pocket  handkerchief 
torn,  or  a  bosom  worn  out,  I  am  supplied  with 
new  ones.  A  day  or  two  since,  she  sent  me  a  beau- 
tifully fine  flannel  vest,  and  soon  I  am  to  have  its 
fellow.  Not  long  since,  she  sent  me  a  fine  silk  vel- 
vet vest,  with  other  articles  ;  and  almost  every  day, 
the  footstep  of  her  servant  is  heard,  bringing  a  cup 
of  jelly,  a  bowl  of  custard,  a  chicken  liver,  sponge- 
cake, preserves,  or  some  little  delicacy,  which  '  she 
hopes  I  may  eat.'  And  this  is  not  half  A  most 
excellent  servant  of  hers  has  always  been  at  my 
command,  to  dress  my  blisters,  or  to  do  anything 
that  required  particular  attention;  and  she  herself, 
when  necessary,  has  watched  at  my  bedside,  and 
made  my  pillow,  in  sickness.  To  God  I  am  indebted 
for  it.  Lord,  help  me — Oh  help  me,  that  I  may 
appreciate  it." 

Speaking  of  this  class  of  his  benefactors 
elsewhere  in  the  same  terms — and  the  excel- 
lent lady  in  whose  household  he  was  settled 


70  MEMOIR   OF 

many  months  comes  in  for  a  large  share  of  his 
gratitude — he  corrects  himself,  by  stating  that 
they  approached  as  near  to  the  character  of 
such  as  strangers  could.  For  him,  however, 
it  was  impossible  they  should  ever  satisfy  those 
yearnings  of  affection  which  went  back  to  the 
haunts  of  his  early  home.  This  is  evident 
from  the  language  in  which  he  alludes  to  the 
letters  he  occasionally  received  from  his  mother 
and  sister.  All  that  his  nature  was  capable 
of,  he  says,  he  had  felt  for  them, — and  yet 
they  asked  him  if  he  had  not  forgotten  them. 
The  reflections  excited  by  such  a  question  may 
be  inferred,  perhaps,  from  an  eloquent  passage 
(apparently  taken  from  a  newspaper)  which 
we  find  among  the  leaves  of  his  journal : 

"  It  is  a  sad  thing  to  feel  that  we  must  die  away 
from  our  home.  Tell  not  the  invalid  who  is  yearn- 
ing after  his  distant  country,  that  the  atmosphere 
around  him  is  soft,  that  the  gales  are  filled  with 
balm,  and  the  flowers  are  sparkling  from  the  green 
earth ; — he  knows  that  the  softest  air  to  his  breast 
would  be  the  air  which  hangs  over  his  native  land ; 
that  more  grateful  than  all  the  gales  of  the  south 
would  breathe  the  low  whispers  of  anxious  affection ; 
that  the  very  icicles  clinging  to  his  own  eaves,  and 
the  snow  beating  against  his  own  windows,  would 
be  far  more  pleasant  to  his  eyes,  than  the  bloom 
and  verdure  which  only  more  forcibly  remind  him 


MELVILLE   B.    COX,  71 

how  far  he  is  from  that  one  spot  which  is  dearer  to 
him  than  the  world  beside.  He  may,  indeed,  find 
estimable  friends,  who  will  do  all  in  their  power  to 
promote  his  comfort  and  assuage  his  pains ;  but 
they  cannot  supply  the  place  of  the  long  known  and 
long  loved — they  cannot  read,  as  in  a  book,  the 
mute  language  of  his  face — they  have  not  learned 
to  wait  upon  his  habits,  and  anticipate  his  wants, 
and  he  has  not  learned  to  communicate,  without 
hesitation,  all  his  wishes,  impressions  and  thoughts, 
to  them.  He  feels  that  he  is  a  stranger  ;  and  a 
more  desolate  feeling  than  that  could  not  visit  his 
soul.  How  much  is  expressed  by  that  form  of  ori- 
ental benediction — May  yoti  die  among  your  kin- 
dred ! " — Greenwood. 

Such,  probably,  were  the  thoughts  revolving 
in  his  mind,  in  spite  of  every  more  cheerful 
effort,  when,  in  one  of  his  excursions  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Raleigh,  disabled  by  exhaus- 
tion on  the  road-side,  and  suffering  extreme 
pain,  he  "  felt  a  little  sad,"  as  he  expresses  it 
at  one  time  ;  and  at  another,  '•  walked  into  the 
woods  alone,  and  was  so  affected  that  I  sat 
down  and  wept  at  the  thought  of  my  situation: 
but  He  who  comforted  Hagar  comforted  me," 
He  was  reduced  at  this  period  to  such  a  degree 
that  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  he 
succeeded  hi  getting  to  Hillsborough,  a  few 
miles,  with  the  aid  of  a  mattrass  in  a  car- 


72  MEMOIR    OF 

riage.  "Once,  indeed,  I  feared,"  he  says,  af- 
ter he  arrived  there,  "  the  road  would  be  my 
death-bed." — "  But  I  yet  hve,"  he  adds,  "and 
for  tliree  days  past,  have  improved  beyond  all 
expectations."  Mark  now  the  use  which  he 
makes  of  his  first  ability  !  "  I  have  written  to 
Raleigh,  that,  the  Lord  willing,  I  shall  be  with 
them  next  week,  and  shall  jveach  to  them  on 
Simday  morning !  ^^  This  was  after  his  re- 
signing his  charge. 

Indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  Death  himself  could 
scarcely  keep  him  from  the  pulpit.  He  felt 
invariably  a  good  deal  of  pain  after  preaching, 
and  sometimes  was  exhausted  for  days ;  but 
this,  he  says,  somehow  or  other,  he  forgot; 
and  when  the  inducements  seemed  pressing, 
could  not  but  persuade  himself  that  duty  re- 
quired him  to  try  once  more.  And  then  he 
could  never  be  "  moderate."  He  never  was 
boisterous  in  his  manner,  indeed ;  no  man's 
taste,  sense  or  religion  could  be  farther  than 
his  from  what  is  termed  rant ;  but  he  could 
not  keep  his  feelings  from  being  roused  to  the 
bottom  of  their  depths,  and  his  feeble  frame 
was  racked  with  contending  emotions  till  it 
seemed  utterly  disabled.  This,  of  course,  was 
to  be  regretted.  And  yet  we  have  some  doubts, 
after  all,  whether,  in  other  respects,  his  experi- 
ence itself  discredited   the  soundness  of  the 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  73 

reasoning  which  had  induced  him  to  join  the 
Conference,  and  assume  a  station.  His  own 
opinion,  certainly,  continued  the  same.  As 
late  as  September  of  this  trying  season,  and 
during  a  three  months'  confinement  to  his 
room,  he  says — "  I  cannot  mourn  that  I  have 
joined  the  travelhng  Connection  again,  though 
I  die  fifteen  years  sooner  for  it.  I  beheve  this 
is  my  place,  sick  or  well.  *  *  If  God  called 
me  to  it,  he  will  temper  the  circumstances  in 
the  best  manner  for  my  good.  If  I  am  sick, 
that  sickness  may  accomplish  more  than  my 
health."  Occasionally,  his  thoughts  on  the 
subject  were  less  cheerful,  but  the  conclusion 
was  always  much  the  same.  The  Raleigh 
church,  he  believed,  (notwithstanding  his  af- 
fection for  them,)  had  always  abused  spiritual 
privileges ;  and  it  might  be  God's  intention  to 
remind  them  of  it  through  him  : 

"  Bat  even  with  this  view,  I  seemed  to  look  upon 
myself  as  the  cause  of  the  affliction.  Had  I  not  been 
sent  here,  perhaps  they  had  been  better  supplied, 
and — perhaps  worse.  Their  preacher  might  have 
died.,  or  have  been  such  as  they  would  not  have 
thought  profitable  for  this  place.  At  least,  I  will 
yet  hope  for  the  best.  Still  I  do  feel  unhappy  at 
times,  for  the  moment,  at  its  recollection.  Some 
good,  however,  has  been  done.  A  few  were  plucked 
as  '  brands  from  the  burning,'  who  still  hold  on  their 


74  MEMOIR  OF 

way.  These  I  hope  to  meet  in  heaven,  as  fruits  of 
my  ministry  here,  and  as  evidence  that  the  hand  of 
God  was  in  my  coming  to  Raleigh." 

Nor  will  the  attentive  reader  of  the  private 
journal,  on  the  whole,  find  anything  in  the 
impression  it  conveys  of  the  spiritual  condition 
of  the  mind  of  the  writer,  to  alter  the  opinion 
which  this  reasoning  is  intended  to  express 
and  confirm.  True,  it  contains  evidence  of 
many  anxious,  doubtful,  desponding  hours; — 
it  would  be  wonderful,  indeed,  were  it  other- 
wise. The  trials  which  beset  him  were  many, 
and  hard  to  be  borne — the  trials  as  well  of  body 
as  of  soul.  To  be  so  utterly  incapacitated  from 
active  service,  with  such  responsibilities  over 
him,  and  such  calls  upon  him,  and  such  an  in- 
satiable and  burning  eagerness  in  his  bosom  to 
be  doing  the  work  whereunto  he  believed  him- 
self to  be  sent — this  was  no  ordinary  affliction, 
alone.  To  be  without  help  at  all  in  the  first 
instance,  and  so  grievously  disappointed  in  the 
second — to  be  dependent  npon  everybody,  and 
able  to  depend  upon  nobody — to  be  personally 
a  burthen  to  all  around  him,  and  yet  in  a  land 
of  strangers,  Avho  knew  him  not — to  be  suffer- 
ing for  privations  which  he  could  not  allude 
to,  or  indebted  for  kindness  which  he  never 
could  expect  to  repay — to  be  filled  with  all  the 
thousand  wearing  cares  of  an  official  situation, 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  76 

which,  in  imagination,  in  effort,  in  feehng,  in 
anticipation  of  the  future,  if  not  in  actual  super- 
intendence of  the  present,  he  still  continued  to 
fill; — these  also  were  among  his  trials.  That, 
under  these, — and  with  excruciating  agonies 
of  bodily  suffering  frequently  added  to  a  con- 
stant inability  to  converse  even,  without  feel- 
ing the  pain  of  a  whisper  in  his  lungs, — he 
could  still  maintain  the  spirit  which  the  record 
of  his  days  sets  forth, — what  volumes  does  it 
speak  for  the  mighty  power  of  a  spiritual  and 
fervent  faith,  through  prayer  and  holy  striv- 
ing, to  conquer,  under  God,  every  enemy  that 
may  beset  the  soul.  He  here  alludes  to  a 
course  of  severe  medical  treatment  to  which 
he  submitted  : 

"  About  two  or  three  hours  after  the  operation,  I 
was  taken  with  the  most  excruciating  agony  in  the 
spine,  about  the  small  of  the  back.  I  had  just  been 
down  in  the  dining-room,  when  I  was  taken,  and 
there  I  lay  till  Saturday  evening. 

"  My  pains  were  indescribable.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  spinal  marrow  were  separating — as  if,  without 
relief,  I  must  die  or  go  crazy.  I  called  on  the 
Lord  to  save  me  from  another  such  paroxysm,  after 
I  had  suffered  two  or  three,  and  he  heard  my  cry. 

"  I  had  many  fears  that  the  lower  extremities 
would  be  paralyzed.  But,  thanks  be  to  God,  I  am 
better  ; — can  walk  a  little. 


76  MEMOIR  OF 

"Oh!  that  this  affliction  maybe  for  my  good ! 
May  I  see  the  hand  of  God  in  it.  May  I  be  puri- 
fied in  it  as  by  fire.  Oh  !  that  he  Avould  fit  me  for 
his  kingdom.  Sure  I  am  that  it  is  a  loud  voice.  If 
pain  can  profit  the  soul,  I  ought  to  learn.  Such 
agonized  feelings  I  think  I  never  experienced  before. 
I  felt  as  if  the  soul  of  sensation  were  suffering,  if  not 
dying. 

"  What  this  will  end  in,  is  yet  uncertain.  But  be 
it  what  it  may,  I  think  a  few  months,  say  six,  at 
most,  will  make  a  change  for  the  better  or  the  worse. 
It  is  now  six  years  since  I  was  taken  ill.  Since 
then,  I  have  not  known  a  well  hour.  I  do  not  think 
the  tide  will  stand  much  longer  where  it  is.  I  think 
the  Lord  will  either  take  me  hence  or  send  to  me 
more  health.  His  will  be  done,  only  may  he  pre- 
pare ME  for  the  consequences.  May  he  give  me  a 
holy  heart.  Then,  neither  a  burning  world  nor  dis- 
solving nature  can  alarm  me.  Then,  nothing  but 
God  shall  make  me  afraid.  In  his  arms,  the  fire 
must  cease  to  burn,  and  the  waters  to  flow.  If  I  am 
be  with  me — if  God  in  truth  show  himself  mine — it 
is  enough.  Oh !  that  this  moment  my  soul  were 
wholly  consecrated  to  him."      ■*■         ^         ■^         ^ 

"  September  19. — Once  more  I  can  stand  on  my 
feet,  as  an  evidence  of  God's  mercy  toward  me. 
But  I  am  not  thankful  as  I  should  be.  My  heart  is 
cold.  I  still  love  earth  and  earthly  enjoyments. 
Oh!  that  I  were  weaned  from  every  object.  Oh! 
that  I  did  love  and  honor  God  as  I  should.     Oh ! 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  77 

that  all  my  words,  my  actions,  my  looks,  and  my 
thoughts,  might  tell  that  I  am  constantly  seeking  for 
the  fulness  of  God.  I  do  pray  that  my  afflictions 
may  not  be  in  vain  to  those  around  me,  more  than  to 
myself.  May  my  sick-room  become  a  chapel,  where 
preaching  shall  be  heard,  though  no  voice  speak. 
Let  patient  submission  tell,  0  God,  how  good  thou 
art." 

The  same  spirit  pervades  the  following : 

"  That  providence  which  has  permitted  my  pres- 
ent, apparently  unnecessary  affliction,  no  doubt,  to 
many,  seems  dark.  I  was  before  deeply  afflicted, 
and  the  doctor's  new  practice  has,  instead  of  reliev- 
ing me,  as  was  expected,  given  me  a  lameness  in 
my  back,  which  has  made  me  more  helpless  than 
all  my  other  afflictions  put  together,  and  has  relieved 
me  of  nothing  whatever.  Still  I  believe  this  to  be 
well  also.  Had  I  not  been  detained  here,  I  might 
now  have  been  food  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  mighty 
deep.  This  very  circumstance,  though  dark  in  its 
appearance,  may  have  been  necessary  to  prevent  a 
greater  evil,  or — which  would  be  still  more  grateful 
to  my  feelings — to  accomplish  some  greater  good  in 
Raleigh  than  I  could  elsewhere.  Short  as  is  my 
sight,  I  can  see  many  possible  circumstances,  which, 
had  they  been  permitted,  would  have  made  my 
present  situation  an  object  of  the  most  grateful  feel- 
ings. Be  it  as  it  may,  I  have  not  a  murmuring 
thought.     I  believe  God  '  has  done  all  things  well.' 


78 


MEMOIR  OF 


'  It  is  not  in  man  to  direct  his  steps.'  In  permitting 
this  hist  treatment,  I  was  governed  by  the  best 
light  I  had.  If  in  doing  it  I  erred,  I  will  still  be- 
lieve that  God  will  overrule  it  for  my  good,  and 
make  even  this  dark  cloud  yet  as  the  sunshine  of 
heaven."  #  *  *  # 

"  October  17. — My  feelings  this  morning  were  a 
little  sad.  I  begin  to  doubt  for  the  future  about  the 
poor,  perishing  engagements  of  earth.  And  yet  I 
have  no  cause  to.  God  is  still  merciful.  His  arm 
is  not  shortened,  nor  has  his  eye  forgotten  to  pity. 
In  the  midst  of  afflictions  he  has  sent  me  many 
mercies.  Nay,  I  doubt  if  any  man  in  health,  in  the 
city,  has  had.  more  enjoyment  for  the  last  itvo  months 
than  I.  My  mind  has  generally  been  unusually 
tranquil,  and  in  my  severe  sufferings,  I  have  felt  an 
almighty  arm  near  to  support.  Lord,  save  me  from 
unbelief — from  distrusting  thee — from  those  fears 
about  being  burthensome  to  others  which,  sometimes 
in  my  life,  have  been  as  a  gnawing  worm  to  all  my 
joys.  Oh  turn  the  tempter  away.  Lift  a  standard 
when  he  cometh  in  like  a  flood,  and  give  me  that 
confidence  in  thee  that  will  not  doubt."         ^  =* 

"  Sunday,  Oct.  30. — I  have  once  more  attempted 
to  preach.  I  spoke  over  an  hour,  from  Rev.  xx, 
11 — 15,  an  awfully  terrific  subject.  I  did  not  have 
the  liberty  I  wished  for,  nor  that  which  has  been 
usual.  I  need  to  be  humbled ; — I  pray  that  I 
may  soon  learn  more  sensibly  what  a  poor,  weak 
creature  man  is — I,  in  particular.     I  am  sure,  how- 


MELVILLE    B.   COX.  79 

ever,  that  my  feelings  for  the  week  past  have 
been  very  sincere.  I  think  I  desire  the  glory  of 
God,  above  everything.  But  the  heart  is  deceit- 
ful, and  probably  it  often  deceives  its  possessor  under 
his  most  watchful  vigilance.  The  Lord  help  me  to 
do  better  next  time.  Preach  I  must,  when  able  to 
speak,  or  suffer  spiritiial  loss." 

The  effort  which  is  alluded  to  in  this  pas- 
sage cost  him  as  severe  a  penalty  as  usual — 
perhaps  more  so;  it  is  certain  that  he  seems 
about  this  time  to  have  made  up  his  mind 
finally  on  the  necessity  of  abandoning,  for  the 
present,  all  hope  of  laboring  in  his  favorite 
department.  Under  these  circumstances,  his 
restless  thoughts  again  began  to  scheme  new 
plans  of  active  usefulness.  He  could  not  en- 
dure, for  a  moment,  the  idea  of  lying  idle; 
contention  itself  was  not  more  as  death  to  him, 
— to  use  an  expression  of  his  own — than  the 
necessity  of  suspending  his  7oork.  At  one  time, 
indeed,  he  talks  a  little  of  visiting  Europe  for 
his  health.  That  would  have  been  delightful 
to  a  man  of  his  inquiring  mind;  he  might 
have  indulged  freely  that  longing  to  know  and 
lear?i  which,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  afflic- 
tions— lungs,  back,  eyes,  head,  and  all,  could 
not  prevent  him  from  gratifying  with  the  dili- 
gent perusal  of  his  books.     But  that  was  out  of 


80  MEMOIR  OF 

the  question,  and  he  thought  no  more  of  it ;  it 
was  no  habit  of  his  to  waste  his  strength  in 
wishing  for  impossible  things.  A  missionary 
enterprize,  in  some  foreign  land,  next  occurred 
to  him ;  and  in  November,  we  find  him  discus- 
sing the  project  of  going  to  South  America  with 
those  views :  there  he  thought  the  state  of  his 
heahh,  even  if  the  voyage  gave  him  no  benefit, 
would  still  permit  him  to  be  essentially  useful 
to  some  of  his  fellow  men.  He  trusted,  how- 
ever, that  it  would  restore  him  to  his  native 
strength  once  more;  and  "I  long,"  he  says, 
"  to  preach  the  gospel  to  those  who  have  never 
heard  it.  My  soul  burns  with  impatient  desire 
to  hold  up  the  cross  of  Christ  on  missionary 
ground."  In  December,  as  the  following  pas- 
sage shows,  he  was  still  undecided : 

"  I  have  now  fo7ir  anchors  out,  and  I  hope  that 
some  of  them  will  hold  on.  In  view  of  my  inability 
to  preach,  my  mind  has  been  constantly  inventing 
something  by  which  I  might  support  myself  without 
being  burthensome  to  others.  I  have  an  eye  to  the 
editorship  of  a  paper  in  Georgia,  and  to  another  to 
be  published  in  Kichmond,  provided  it  should  be 
under  the  direction  of  the  Virginia  Conference  ;  and 
I  have  made  some  inquiries  about  an  agency  for 
the  Colonization  Society  ;  also  a  mission  to  South 
America." 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  81 

This,  as  he  humorously  expresses  it,  was 
having  all  his  irons  in  the  fire  at  once,  includ- 
ing his  poker  and  tongs  with  the  rest.  Yet 
there  was  another  plan,  not  here  alluded  to — 
that  of  a  religious  paper  at  Raleigh,  for  which 
we  notice  a  copy  of  the  printed  "proposals," 
among  the  leaves  of  his  journal,  marked  by 
himself  in  a  manner  which  indicates  an  expec- 
tation of  being  concerned  in  it;  and  the  style 
apparently  his  own.  This  must  have  been  a 
mere  passing  thought.  Late  in  the  month,  we 
find  him  resolved  that  he  would  like  to  be 
connected  in  some  way  with  the  Conference, 
but  without  undertaking  to  preach,  or  ride ; 
for  he  had  at  last  concluded  that  to  "  keep 
preaching  a  little"  would  just  keep  him  con- 
stantly sick — too  sick  to  labor,  though  too  well 
to  be  idle.  On  the  whole,  he  was  in  great 
doubt.  His  mind  inclined,  however,  to  Geor- 
gia, from  which  quarter  he  continued  to  be 
urged.  When  he  left  Raleigh,  indeed,  on  the 
2Sth  of  the  month,  for  Halifax,  it  seems  to 
have  been  with  almost  an  intention  to  make 
that  journey  a  test  of  his  ability  to  go  farther, 
and,  if  he  found  himself  able,  to  keep  on ; — but 
still  hoping  that  some  new  light  might  be 
given  him.  The  first  stage,  it  must  be  al- 
lowed, was  not  particularly  calculated  to  en- 
courage him.  He  says — 
6 


82  MEMOIR  OF 

"  I  have  been  in  many  scenes  of  wickedness,  but 
never  heard  so  much  profanity,  in  the  same  space  of 
time,  as  I  did  in  riding  three  miles.  There  were 
five  beings  who  called  themselves  '  gentlemen,'  in 
the  stage,  and  four  out  of  the  five  were  just  drunk 
enough  to  fear  neither  God  nor  man.  They  all 
swore  vengeance  against  the  stage-driver,  and  some 
Avent  so  far  as  to  swear  they  would  shoot  him.  One 
attempted  to  stab  him  with  a  sword-cane,  and  an- 
other to  knock  him  down  with  a  loaded  one,  but 
both  were  prevented  by  the  interference  of  their  so- 
ber companion.  The  fears  for  my  back,  and  not  a 
few  for  my  life,  made  me  think  it  most  prudent  to 
stop  at  the  first  place  where  I  could  find  accommoda- 
tions.     "When  we  arrived  at  my  friend  J 's,  I 

begged  the  driver  to  let  me  get  out.  My  baggage 
was  put  down  in  the  road,  and  I  left  them  to  pursue 
their  way  in  drunken  madness,  glad,  and  thankful 
indeed,  that  I  had  escaped  with  no  other  inconven- 
ience than  a  few  wrenches  of  my  poor  back,  and 
some  horrid  shocks  to  my  feelings." 

From  Halifax  he  travelled  by  land  to  Peter- 
borough, Avilh  much  difficulty,  arriving  there 
on  the  last  day  of  Jaiuiary,  and  having  been 
about  a  month  in  performing  a  journey  which 
formerly,  he  says,  he  could  have  accomplished 
on  horseback  in  three  days.  At  one  place  on 
this  route,  he  mentions  the  sight  of  the  skull 
and  hat  of  a  negro  recently  executed,   dur- 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  83 

ing  the  general  excitement  occasioned  by  the 
Southampton  affair.  A  number  more  had 
shared  the  same  fate  at  the  same  place. 

At  Norfolk,  Mr.  Cox  attended  the  meeting 
of  the  Conference,  and  was  invited  to  act  as 
Chairman  of  the  Committee  for  drafting  a  pas- 
toral letter ;  a  labor  which,  Avith  others,  he  was 
compelled  to  decline,  though  he  felt  the  gratiii- 
cation  of  the  compliment  it  implied,  especially 
considering  his  age.  Here  also  he  received  a 
pressing  invitation  from  his  brethren  in  Maine, 
to  undertake  the  management  of  the  Maine 
Wesleyan  Journal.  At  another  time,  attached 
as  he  was  to  the  land  of  his  birth  and  the 
friends  of  his  youth,  it  is  not  improbable  that 
this  proposal  might  have  determined  the  se- 
quel of  his  career.  As  it  was,  it  came  too  late. 
A  new  subject  had  dawned  on  his  mind.  We 
have  noticed  the  first  allusion  to  the  Coloniza- 
tion scheme.  This,  from  the  moment  of  its 
suggestion,  seems  to  have  grown  upon  his  af- 
fections, till  it  became,  as  will  be  seen,  decid- 
edly a  favorite  project,  even  his  heart's  desire. 
He  speaks  of  meeting  Bishop  Hedding,  and  of 
proposing  the  South  American  mission  to  him, 
in  a  private  interview;  "and  he,  in  return," 
he  says,  ^^  proposed  one  for  me  to  LiheriaP 
And  he  promptly  adds,  "  ^/  the  Lord  will,  I 
think  I  shall  go  ;  much,  however,  yet  remains 


84  MEMOIR  OF 

to  be  considered,"  «fcc.  Of  this  Conference  he 
asked  and  obtained  leave  to  travel,  for  the  ben- 
efit of  his  health, — the  destination,  of  conrse, 
remaining  undecided.  He  then  went  to  Balti- 
more with  the  Bishop,  and  spent  a  few  weeks 
there,  "very  solicitous"  about  his  appoint- 
ment to  Liberia,  and  "  wanting  much  to  go," 
but  compelled  to  wait  patiently  for  the  devel- 
opment of  events.  Thence  he  directed  his 
course  for  Wilmington,  in  company  with  Bish- 
ops Hedding  and  McKendree.  Here  he  at- 
tempted to  preach  once  more,  but  seems  to 
have  been  mortified  with  what  he  considered 
his  failure.  Probably  his  physical  power  dis- 
appointed him,  as  little  as  he  now  relied  on  it, 
for  he  speaks  of  going  to  bed  the  moment  he 
was  done,  and  there  lying  till  late  the  next  day. 
Towards  the  last  of  April,  the  warm  weather 
reviving  him  in  some  degree,  he  passed  on  to 
Philadelphia,  where  the  sixth  General  Confer- 
ence was  in  session,  and  there  he  took  his  seat 
as  a  member ;  by  Avhat  authority  he  does  not 
mention.  His  mind  was  still  full  of  the  en- 
grossing subject.  On  the  5th  of  May  he  says, 
"  I  called  on  Bishop  McKendree.  He  does  not 
hesitate  to  say  that  he  is  prepared  to  send  me 
to  Liberia."  He  adds  that  his  feelings  had 
become  deeply  interested  in  that  scheme ;  so 
much  so,  that  if  the  appointment  should  not 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  85 

be  made,  he  could  not  but  feel  it  deeply.  "  The 
Lord  direct,  and  help  me  to  be  submissive,  to 
believe  in  his  goodness,  and  to  trust  my  all  in 
his  hands.  Oh  !  that  I  may  be  holy.  Surely  I 
shall  need  it,  to  dare  the  climate  of  Africa." 
Again : 

"  Sunday,  May  6. — A  pleasant  morning.  My 
breast  feels  acutely  the  effort  of  yesterday,  to  con- 
verse agreeably  with  a  few  friends.  Liberia  swal- 
lows up  all  my  thoughts.  I  thirst  for  the  commis- 
sion to  go.  The  path  looks  pleasant,  though  filled 
with  dangers.  Death  may  be  there,  but  I  trust  this 
would  be  well  also."       ^  ^  *  * 

"  Monday,  May  7. — The  Episcopacy  has  con- 
cluded to  send  me  to  Liberia.  I  hail  it  as  the  most 
joyful  appointment  from  them  that  I  have  ever  re- 
ceived. The  prospect  now  is,  that,  feeble  as  I  am, 
there  I  may  be  2iseful,  while  the  energy  of  life  re- 
mains ;  that  there  I  may  '  cease  at  once  to  work  and 
live  ! '  I  thirst  to  be  on  my  way.  I  pray  that  God 
may  fit  my  soul  and  body  for  the  duties  before  me  ; 
that  God  may  go  with  me  ;  then  I  have  no  linger- 
ing fear.  A  grave  in  Africa  shall  be  siveet  to  me,  if 
he  sustain  me." 

Weeks  afterward,  he  continues  to  use  the 
same  expressions  of  eagerness  and  joy.  Death, 
life,  labor,  suffering,  but  above  all,  Liberia, 
looked  pleasant  to  him.  He  saw,  or  thought 
he  saw,  resting  upon  Africa,  the  dew  of  Zion, 


86  MEMOIR  OF 

and  tlie  light  of  God.  He  thirsted  to  know  that 
the  winds  of  heaven  were  icaftin^r  Jiim  to  its 
shores.  This  beautiful  expression  is  repeated 
elsewhere. 

Sometimes,  his  hopes  were  depressed,  even 
in  regard  to  his  African  mission.  His  health 
troubled  him.  It  not  only  reduced  his  animal 
spirits  for  a  time — an  influence  which  he  was 
sensible  of,  and  guarded  against — but  really 
presented,  or  appeared  to  present,  occasionally, 
a  real,  rational,  and  almost  insurmountable 
obstacle  to  his  usefulness.  He  counted  much, 
doubtless,  on  the  genial  effect  of  resting  from 
labor  at  home  awhile,  the  warm  weather, 
travelling,  visiting  his  friends,  the  African 
voyage,  and  also  upon  the  hope  of  laboring 
effectively — a  favorite  word  of  his — in  Liberia, 
without  exposing  himself  to  a  repetition  of  the 
trials  he  had  just  undergone  in  North  Carolina. 
But  still  appearances  were  sometimes  against 
him,  and  he  could  not  overlook  that  fact, 
though,  on  the  whole,  lie  was  encouraged — 
especially  with  the  idea  that  God  could  bring 
blessed  results  out  of  even  his  sickness  and 
death,  if  it  so  pleased  him — and  so  he  went  on 
his  way  northward  in  good  hope.  At  New 
York,  he  attended  the  anniversary  of  the 
Young  Men's  Missionary  Society  of  that  city, 
(the  same  with  which  he  was  afterwards  more 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  87 

closely  connected,)  and  spoke  a  few  moments, 
as  he  did  also,  on  one  occasion,  at  the  Brom- 
field  Street  Church,  in  Boston.  On  the  21st  of 
June,  he  met  his  brother  in  Portland,  and  the 
27th  found  him  at  his  sister's  (Mrs.  Lom- 
bard's) in  Hallowell.  The  feelings  aroused 
by  his  brief  interview  with  these  friends,  and 
with  the  venerable  and  beloved  parent  who 
now  embraced  him  for  the  last  time,  hardly 
suffering  herself,  as  he  parted  with  her,  to  be 
left  behind — the  intefest  excited  in  such  a 
mind,  at  such  a  moment,  by  the  sight  of  every 
familiar  object  which  had  greeted  his  eyes  in 
the  distant  but  unforgotten  days  of  boyhood, 
now  never  to  greet  them  again — even  the  sim- 
ple circumstance  of  being  called  on,  in  the 
farewell  hour,  as  he  stood  at  the  threshold  of 
the  old  home  which  his  tears  had  hallowed 
to  his  heart,  to  administer  the  baptismal  cere- 
mony for  his  sister's  two  little  children — (a 
scene  to  which  he  often  afterwards  alludes) — 
how  must  these  things  have  moved  afresh  the 
deep  fountains  of  feeling  and  of  thought,  in  a 
nature  so  capable  of  emotion  and  of  reflection 
as  his !  He  writes  their  names  for  a  tender 
memorial  of  the  solemn  ordinance,  "  Dear  lit- 
tle Anne  and  Charles,"  he  calls  them.  "  They 
are  all  the  children  my  sister  has,  and  it  will 
be  sweet  to  me  to  remember  that  they  were 


88  MEMOIR  OF 

dedicated  to  God  by  my  office  and  ministry." 
And  wlio  doubts  that  it  was  sweet?  Who 
can  doul)t  tliat,  in  weariness  and  sickness,  in 
a  far  land,  by  night  and  day,  his  afTections 
were  soothed  by  the  memory  of  this  dehght- 
ful,  though  mournful  serv'ice;  and  that  even 
in  the  last  dreams  of  the  dying  martyr,  on 
heathen  shores,  the  faces  of  the  angels  that 
beckoned  him  gently  up  to  his  rest  in  heaven, 
were  blended  with  the  loving  and  grateful 
eyes  of  the  "dear"  immortal  spirits,  whose 
consecration  to  the  divine  life  they  were  born 
for  was  committed  to  his  hands  ! 

Remembrances  of  another  character  were 
revived,  too,  by  his  visit : 

"  It  is  now  about  five  years  since  I  left  home.  In 
this  long  absence  from  friends,  the  sun  hath  shed 
but  a  few  beams  on  me.  One  bright  one  rested  on 
me  for  a  while,  till  infinite  wisdom  saw  it  necessary 
to  interpose  a  cloud.  But  though  earthly  prospects 
have  been  clouded,  all,  I  believe,  has  eventuated  in 
my  spiritual  good.  To-day,  I  find  myself  at  home, 
with  friends,  with  those  that  I  love  and  those  that 
love  me.  Through  all  God  hath  been  my  guide 
and  my  deliverer.  His  hand  hath  blessed  me  ; — his, 
afflicted  ;  and  I  both  see  and  feel  that  unchanging 
goodness  prompted  the  one  as  well  as  the  other. 

"  Thursday,  June  28. — I  can  scarcely  realize 
that,  after  an  absence  of  five  years,  I  have  again  met 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  89 

my  dear  mother  and  sister.  Hallowell  and  home 
never  looked  more  lovely  than  now ;  but  the  ab- 
sence of  her  that  I  had  so  often  hoped  would  one 
day  meet  them  with  me,  has  chastened  our  joy  to 
melancholy.  The  past  has  all  been  called  up  afresh. 
My  dear  Ellen  and  little  Martha  mingle  in  all  our 
recollections  ;  and  the  thought  that  they  are  no  more, 
has  spoken  to  us  so  impressively,  that  we  are  happy 
only  as  we  hope  for  immortality." 

Surely  this  weakness,  if  it  be  one,  will  be 
forgiven  him  at  such  a  time.  It  is  not  required 
of  man  that  he  should  cease  to  be  human. 
There  is  a  time  to  weep,  as  well  as  a  time  to 
pray,  and  to  prevail,  in  the  might  of  faith,  over 
all  things.  There  could  not  be  the  triumph 
without  the  trial.  Mr.  Cox  had  the  experience 
of  both.  He  felt — felt  to  his  heart's  core — felt 
till  the  tears  were  wrung  from  his  manhood 
like  drops  of  blood  ; — but  he  faltered  not  in  the 
high  purpose  to  which  the  days  of  his  life,  and 
the  capacities  of  his  character,  were  devoted. 
It  was  because  he  felt,  that  he  faltered  not : 

"  The  strength  whereby 
The  patriot  girds  himself  to  die, — 
The  unconquerable  power  that  fills 
The  freeman  battling  for  his  hills, — 
These  have  one  fountain,  deep  and  clear, 
The  same  whence  gushed  that  child-like  tear." 


90  MEMOIR    OF 

He  speaks  frequently  of  what  might  be  the 
issue  of  his  enterprise,  but  it  should  not  be 
understood  that  he  thought  it,  on  the  whole, 
a  desperate  one  in  that  respect ;  or  that  he 
rushed  recklessly,  like  a  Roman  Stoic,  as  it 
were,  on  the  point  of  his  fate.  He  perceived 
the  hazard,  and  prepared  himself  for  the  result, 
and  especially  trusted  in  God's  wisdom,  (after 
making  up  his  mind  that  it  was  God's  will,) 
to  bring  good  out  of  it,  whatever  it  should  be  ; 
but  that  he  appreciated  the  motives  which  he 
had  for  living,  instead  of  dying,  as  other  men 
would,  is  evident  throughout.     For  example  : 

"  I  have  left  my  friends,  perhaps  forever.  Still  I 
trust  that  the  God  who  has  so  often  blessed,  and  so 
long  watched  over  me,  will  return  me  once  more  in 
safety.  Oh,  that  he  would  !  But  his  will  be  done. 
His  ways  are  above  ours,  and  every  day's  experience 
teaches  me  that,  if  I  ruled  my  own  destiny,  I  should 
have  but  a  dark  path  of  it  here,  and  perhaps  darker 
hereafter." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  prcsumphtous,^^  he  says 
in  another  connection,  and  this  we  believe  to 
have  been  a  principle  with  him.  He  was  ex- 
posed, on  his  return  southward,  to  great  dan- 
ger from  the  cholera,  and  would  gladly  have 
made  arrangements,  as  he  endeavored  to  do, 
for  embarking  without  the  necessity  of  linger- 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  91 

ing  in  the  cities,  where  it  then  raged  at  its 
height.  There  were  sixty  cases  on  the  day- 
he  reached  Philadelphia,  and  one  hundred  and 
seventy-six  on  the  next,  with  over  eighty 
deaths.  Here  he  received  intelligence  from 
the  Colonization  Society,  at  Washington,  of  a 
vessel  to  sail  from  Norfolk,  and  he  went  on. 
At  Baltimore,  he  received  a  few  hundred  dol- 
lars, (the  residuum  of  an  estate  of  his  wife :) 
and  it  is  characteristic  of  his  spirit,  that  the 
first  appropriation  from  this  little  sum  was  for 
the  manimiission  of  a  slave  boy,  whom,  it  will 
be  seen,  he  took  with  him  on  his  mission,  in- 
tending to  keep  him  under  his  personal  charge. 
He  enjoyed  greatly  a  short  visit  to  Mrs.  Lee's. 
The  air  of  the  country,  too,  much  revived  him; 
and  it  is  remarkable  how  his  enthusiasm  for 
his  mission  regularly  swells  up  in  proportion 
to  his  apparent  ability  to  do  it  justice.  He 
speaks  of  feeling  better,  "but  duty  calls,  and  I 
must  go.  Africa  is  my  home.  Thither  must 
all  my  energies  be  directed.  I  pray  God  to  fit 
me  for  the  work."  Here  the  cholera  again 
beset  him  closely  in  the  city.  There  were 
thirty  or  forty  deaths  daily,  and,  among  the 
rest,  two  in  the  family  with  whom  he  lodged. 
Word  came  to  the  master  of  the  house  that 
one  of  them  was  ill,  and  his  decease  followed 
before  he  could  get  to  him.    In  Richmond,  also^ 


92  MEMOIR    OF 

he  found  the  disorder  raging;  and  at  Hampton, 
where  he  hoped  to  get,  among  other  things, 
some  books  for  his  mission  hbrary,  four  persons 
died  out  of  the  family  he  visited,  including 
a  particular  friend,  his  host.  He  felt  himself 
now  in  some  danger,  though  gradually  too 
much  accustomed  to  it,  if  nothing  more,  to 
be  alarmed — in  which,  probably,  much  of  the 
hazard,  physically  speaking,  consisted — hav- 
ing been  now  a  month  in  a  close  cholera  at- 
mosphere ;  not  to  mention  the  fact  that  at  Wil- 
mington, the  small  pox  was  raging,  at  the 
time  of  his  visit,  in  a  house  directly  over 
the  way.  The  following  letter,  from  Norfolk, 
dated  the  13th  of  October,  will  continue  the 
narrative ;  and  it  will  forcibly  show  how  reso- 
lutely Mr.  Cox,  in  respect  to  his  mission,  (and 
in  other  things  it  was  the  same,)  was  in  the 
habit  of  relying,  next  to  God,  upon  himself: 

"My  Dear  Brother: — These  are  perilous  times. 
For  nearly  three  months,  I  have  been  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  cholera.  Hundreds  have  been  dying 
around  me,  and  in  almost  every  place  I  have  vis- 
ited, men  have  literally  been  buried  '  in  heaps.' 
But  God  hath  spared  me.  Though  frailer  than  the 
flow^er  of  the  field,  and  frequently  under  a  poisonous 
influence  from  the  atmosphere,  or  some  to  me  un- 
known cause,  in  the  most  sensible  manner,  a  gra- 
cious God,  with  a  tender  care  that  it  seems  as  if  I 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  93 

had  never  realized  before,  has  sustained  me  ;  and  to- 
day, I  am  as  well,  and  perhaps  better,  than  when 
we  parted.  But,  my  brother,  in  what  accents  should 
this  desolating  scourge  speak  to  the  living  !  Why, 
why  live  we,  while  others  are  dying ! 

"  My  mission  has  '  neither  form  nor  comeliness  ' 
to  many,  nay,  most  of  my  friends.  One  advises 
that  I  should  take  my  cofHn  with  me  ;  another 
thinks  it  is  offering  murder  for  sacrifice  ;  and  a  third, 
that  it  is  flying  directly  in  the  face  of  a  providence 
which  hath  more  than  thrice  said,  '  the  ivhite  mis- 
sionary shall  not  live  there.'  But  these  see  as  I 
see  not,  think  as  I  think  not,  and  feel  as  I  feel  not. 
One  circumstance,  however,  has  given  me  some 
pain — that,  of  the  ministry,  there  vA'as  none  to  help 
me.  Still,  I  have  frequently  thought  that  God  hath 
guided  this  also.  Every  effort  made  by  myself  or 
others  to  obtain  help,  has  been  thwarted  in  a  man- 
ner apparently  providential,  and  entirely  beyond  our 
control.  All. has  seemed  to  say,  if  I  go  to  Africa,  / 
must  go  alone.  But,  brother,  it  is  well.  I  shall 
have  none  to  lean  upon  but  the  missionary's  God ; 
I  trust  I  shall  cleave  the  more  closely  to  Him.  His 
smiles,  and  the  assurance  of  his  protection,  will  be 
better  than  the  society  and  aid  of  thousands.  He 
can  bring  strength  out  of  weakness,  and  give  effi- 
ciency to  things  that  are  nought.  True,  it  some- 
times looks  dark  to  me,  and  seems  impossible  that  I 
should  accomplish  any  good ;  but  faith  bids  me 
hope  that   there  is  light  ahead,  and  that,  though 


94  MEMOIR    OF 

dark,  the  storm  is  not  only  directed  by  the  same 
hand  which  has  marked  the  coarse  of  a  noon-day 
sun,  but  that  it  frequently  accomplishes  quite  as 
much  good.  Abraham  once  went — he  knew  not 
where : — I  will  trust  in  Abraham's  God. 

"  I  am  now  nearly  ready,  and  the  time  of  my  de- 
parture is  at  hand.  We  are  looking  for  the  Jupiter, 
every  moment,  in  which,  God  willing,  I  am  expect- 
ing to  take  passage.  She  will  touch  here  only  long 
enough  to  take  in  a  few  emigrants,  and  some  arti- 
cles for  the  Colonization  Society  ;  and — we  shall  be 
on  our  way. 

"  In  haste,  afieclionately,  M." 

It  should  be  understood,  in  explanation  of 
part  of  this  letter,  that  when  he  accepted,  as 
he  had  done,  (though  the  date  is  not  given,) 
the  appointment  to  the  superintendency  of  the 
mission  of  the  New  York  Young  Men's  So- 
ciety, (auxiliary  to  the  Missionary  Society  of 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,)  it  was  with 
the  confident  expectation  that  a  companion 
would  accompany  him.  That  hope  he  aban- 
doned with  reluctance.  In  some  measure,  he 
was  relieved  by  the  arrival  of  two  young  men 
from  Princeton,  appointed  as  missionaries  to 
Africa  by  the  Western  Society.  These  were 
Presbyterians,  but  their  denomination  was  no 
hindrance  to  the  love  and  joy  with  which  he 
received  them.     No  consideration  of  that  char- 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  95 

acter  ever  moved  him  to  restrain  either  his 
respect  for  principles,  or  his  atfection  for  men. 
Some  of  his  expressions  suggest,  indeed,  that 
he  suspected  this  movement  might  have  been 
quickened  a  good  deal  by  the  efforts  of  the 
Methodists.  So  far,  it  was  a  delightful  confir- 
mation of  the  reasoning  which  he  had  loved 
to  cherish  in  regard  to  the  usefulness  of  his 
own  mission,  whatever  otherwise  its  result. 
"If  my  move,"  he  says,  '■'■has  done  but  this 
good,  it  is  worth  something.  The  Lord  help 
us  to  help  each  other,  as  brethren  of  the 
same  family  !  " — a  beautiful  exemplification 
of  his  prevailing  spirit.  The  prospect  was 
darkened  again  by  the  death  of  Mr.  13arr, 
owlj  a  week  subsequent  to  his  having  spoken 
at  a  public  meeting  of  the  free  blacks  of  Nor- 
folk, at  which  Mr.  Cox  himself  presided;  and 
then  once  more  came  a  reviving  light  from  the 
north,  in  the  intelligence  of  Bishop  Bedding's 
appointment  of  Messrs.  Spaulding  and  Wright, 
"  to  labor  under  my  direction,  in  connection 
with  me,  at  and  near  Liberia."  This  was 
an  inexpressible  consolation  to  him.  He  had 
dreaded  at  any  time  to  go  alone,  only  on 
the  score  of  his  want  of  strength  to  be  suffi- 
cient, alone,  for  his  work.  He  felt  now  secure 
on  that  point.  And  he  felt  also  as  if  God  had 
chosen  this  way  of  showing  himself  in  the 


96  MEMOIR    OF 


4- 


mission.  He  thought  he  saw  why  his  own  ef- 
forts to  get  company  had  been  sulFered  to  fail. 
For  the  opposition,  too,  which  he  met  with 
in  his  views  of  the  propriety  of  the  mission — a 
sincere  opposition  without  doubt — he  received 
something  of  an  offset,  in  the  sympathy  ex- 
pressed by  here  and  there  a  friend,  of  a  spirit 
congenial  with  his  own.  The  following  lines, 
taken  from  the  Richmond  Christian  Sentinel, 
are  an  example  : 

TO    THE    KEV.    MELVILLE    B.    COX, 
Methodist  Missionary  to  Africa. 

Go  !  child  of  the  cross,  to  tliat  distant  land. 

Where  the  hurning  sun  tints  the  golden  sand 

With  its  glowing  beams;  where  the  Niger  rolls 

Its  beautiful  streams  : — Go  I  friend  of  the  souls 

Of  Afric's  children  ;  and  teach  them  the  way 

To  approach  thy  God  ;  and  how  they  should  pray 

To  the  Spirit  of  Light,  that  He  may  impart 

Immortal  joy  to  the  heathen  heart. 

Go  !  and  in  sickness  shall  angels  be  near, 

To  wipe  from  thy  cheek  eacli  burninpj  tear. 

Go  !  and  in  danger  thy  God  shall  be  nigh, 

And  shall  open  the  way  to  faith's  bright  eye. 

Go  I  and  in  death, — Oh  that  glorious  hour 

For  bursting  the  bonds  of  the  tempter's  ])ower, — 

The  seraphs'  harmonious  numbers  shall  wake, 

On  heavenly  harps  soft  music  to  make, 

Around  thy  couch  ; — and  Afric's  sons 

Shall  bury  thy  corpse  where  some  bright  stream  runs  ; 

And  the  native  children  repeat  their  prayers 

Around  thy  grave  ;  and  when  evening  stars 


f 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  97 

Ride  bright  through  the  sky,  thy  converts  shall  bow 

To  the  God  of  him  of  the  sunny  brow, 

Who  led  their  children  along  in  the  way, 

From  the  ills  of  life,  to  eternal  day. 

Go! — and  when  Gabriel's  trump  shall  resound 

Through  ocean's  caves — when  the  solid  ground 

Shall  yield  its  dead,  and  the  dread  display 

Of  the  hosts  of  Heaven  proclaim  the  Day, — 

Then  rise  with  thy  ransomed  from  that  dim  shore, 

To  dwell  with  thy  Saviour  for  evermore. 

About  the  same  time,  he  was  deeply  touched 
by  the  receptiou  of  a  very  kind  communication 
from  Mrs.  Sigourney,  which,  especiahy  as  it 
explains  the  whole  matter  in  the  best  way  for 
itself,  we  will  not  deny  ourselves  the  pleasure 
of  inserting  at  length  : 

"  Hartford,  Sept.  21,  1832. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir  : — Seldom  have  I  perused 
a  letter  that  so  strongly  awakened  my  sympathies  as 
yours,  delineating  the  character  of  your  beloved  and 
departed  wife.  It  reached  me  only  last  evening,  and 
I  hasten  to  reply,  lest  my  compliance  with  your  re- 
quest should  prove  too  late  for  your  purpose.  The 
interval  of  almost  three  weeks,  which  has  transpired 
between  its  date  and  my  answer,  has  been  princi- 
pally devoted  to  an  absence  from  home,  in  a  pursuit 
of  health  upon  the  sea-shore.  I  have  seen  your 
name  in  the  public  prints,  announced  as  missionary 
elect  to  that  suffering  clime,  where  my  heart  has  so 
many  years  lingered  in  painful  pity,  and  in  trem- 
7 


98  MEMOIR   OF 


f 


bling  hope.  God  be  with  you,  white  you  bear  the 
message  of  his  mercy  to  mourning  Africa,  bereft  of 
her  children,  and  too  long  sorrowing  like  those  who 
have  no  hope.  The  Redeemer  of  souls  grant  you 
strength  to  reap  a  full  harvest  in  Liberia ;  and  from 
thence  may  his  gospel  go  forth  in  brightness,  until 
the  whole  of  Ethiopia  shall  stretch  forth  her  hands 
to  God. 

That  all  your  adversities  and  toils  may  be  sanc- 
tified to  your  spiritual  gain  here,  and  made  to  en- 
hance your  '  durable  reward  '  hereafter,  is  the  prayer 
of  yours. 

In  tho  faitb  and  liope  of  the  gospel, 

L.  H.  SIGOURNEY. 

THE    missionary's    FAREAVELL    AT    THE    GRAVE    OF    HIS 

WIFE. 

Once  more,  'mid  autumn's  moaning  blast, 

I  seek  thy  narrow  bed  ; — 
And  is  this  gusli  of  tears    thclast, 

I  o'er  its  turf  may  shed  ? — 
Though  seasons  change,  and  years  depart, 

Yet  none  shall  here  recline. 
To  twine  thy  memory  round  his  heart 

With  such  a  love  as  mine. 

Bound  to  a  suffering,  heathen  clime, 

For  our  Redeemer's  sake. 
What  tides  of  sympathy  sublime 

At  thy  blest  image  wake  ; — 
Thy  tender  care — thy  fearless  trust — 

Thy  fond,  confiding  tone, — 
But  what  avails — since  thou  art  dustj 

And  I  am  all  alone  ! 


MELVILLE    B.   COX.  99 

Thou  too,  dear  infant,  slumbering  nigh, 

How  beautiful  vvert  thou  ! 
Thy  mother's  spirit  in  thine  eye, 

Her  smile  upon  thy  brow  ; — 
A  little  while,  thy  rose-bud  light 

O'er  my  lone  path  was  shed  ; — 
A  little  ichile, — there  came  a  blight, 

And  thou  art  of  the  dead. 

I  go  ; — ni}'  best  beloved,  farewell  ! 

Borne  o'er  the  trackless  sea, 
"When  its  wild  waves  like  mountains  swell, 

Still  shall  1  think  of  thee  ; 
Thy  meekness  'mid  affliction's  strife, 

Thy  lifted  glance  of  prayer. 
Thy  firmness  'neath  the  storms  of  life. 

Shall  be  my  pattern  there. 

And  when,  o'er  Afric's  bleeding  breast, 

The  scorned  of  every  shore, 
The  chained,  the  trampled,  the  oppressed, 

Salvation's  balm  I  pour, 
Thy  zeal  to  spread  a  Saviour's  name, 

Thy  love  with  cloudless  ray, 
Like  ancient  Israel's  pillared  flame. 

Shall  cheer  my  pilgrim  way. 

If  toiling  'mid  that  sultry  glade, 

The  spoiler's  call  I  hear. 
Or  'neath  the  palm  trees'  murmuring  shade 

It  hoarsely  warns  my  ear, 
Oh  !  may  the  faith  that  fired  thine  eye, 

'Mid  pangs  untold  and  strong, 
My  dying  pillow  hover  nigh. 

And  wake  the  triumph-song." 


100  MEMOIR    OF 

The  first  of  November  was  the  day  appointed 
for  the  saiUng  of  the  Jupiter,  in  which  Mr. 
Cox  had  taken  passage ;  and  pubHc  prayers 
on  board,  with  all  other  suitable  preparations, 
were  made  accordingly.  It  was  not,  however, 
till  the  Gth,  that  they  weighed  anchor  for  the 
sea.  There  was  time  enough,  meanwhile,  for 
calm  reflection.  The  journal  acknowledges 
a  "little  sadness"  at  the  thought  of  leaving 
country  and  home,  but  blesses  God  for  the 
consolations  excited  by  the  thought  of  the  fu- 
ture, and  for  a  cheerful  hope  in  His  protection. 
Again,  he  says — 

"  Many  dangers  have  presented  themselves  for 
reflection  this  morning,  and  thought  has  suggested, 
as  it  frequently  has,  that  the  hope  of  life  in  Africa 
must  he  but  as  a  dream.  Perhaps  so.  In  making 
up  my  mind,  and  in  search  of  a  passage  to  go  out, 
I  have  followed  the  best  light  I  could  obtain.  I 
nowr  leave  it  all  with  God.  My  life,  my  soul,  my 
all,  I  renewedly  resign  to  him.  I  believe  he  careth 
for  me.  Wliy  should  I  doubt  but  that  he  will  do 
all  things  well  ? "  *  *"  *"  "^ 

"  When  I  think  of  the  responsibility  I  have  taken 
upon  me,  where  I  am,  and  where  I  am  going  to,  I 
am  surprised.  Something  beyond  nature,  it  does 
seem  to  me,  must  have  moved  my  heart  to  the 
work,  and  sustained  me  under  the  undertaking,  or  I 
should  not  be  where  I  am.     The  Lord  knoweth.     I 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  101 

pray  that  he  may  support  me.  Never  before  did  I 
need  it  so  much.  Never  before  did  I  stand  in  so 
responsible  a  connection  to  the  church.  God  help 
me  to  do  honor  to  him,  and  justice  to  the  cause  in 
which  I  am  engaged." 

On  the  10th,  several  hundred  miles  out,  and 
after  severe  sickness,  he  writes — 

"  Liberia  has  seemed  sweeter,  in  my  contempla- 
tions of  yesterday  and  to-day,  than  ever.  I  hope — 
oh,  I  do  hope,  that  I  may  yet  live  there  to  do  them 
much  good." 

On  the  19th,  "dreadfully  sick,"  and  so  weak 
as  scarcely  to  be  able  to  walk,  he  says — 

"  I  pray  God  to  sustain  me.  I  want  at  least  to 
tread  on  the  soil  of  Africa — to  inhale  its  air ;  and  I 
would  that  I  could  be  spared  at  least  long  enough  to 
see  the  mission  fairly  established. 

"  O  God,  look  on  me  in  love  and  in  mercy.  Re- 
member how  frail  I  am,  and  lift  up  both  my  body 
and  soul  to  praise  thee." 

The  following  striking  passage  occurs  on 
the  24th : 

"  Appearances  of  the  weather  a  little  more  favora- 
ble. Sweet  peace  within  me  this  morning.  God 
is  good.  In  the  midst  of  this  watery  world — these 
mighty  winds  and  this  trembling  sea — my  mind  has 


102  MEMOIR   OF 

been  greatly  comforted.  Heavenly  suggestions  have 
occurred  to  me,  and,  in  view  of  the  work,  I  have 
been  enabled  to  commit  everything  to  God,  without 
perturbation.  •  I  praise  God  for  his  mercy.  My 
heart  cries  out  for  more  of  his  love,  and  more  of  his 
abiding  presence.  I  want  to  breathe  in  him — to  feel 
that  my  very  breath  is  prayer,  and  communion  with 
God. 

"  My  mind  is  planning  for  the  good  of  my  mis- 
sion. A  mission-house,  a  school,  and  a  farm  con- 
nected with  it,  and  finally  an  academy,  rise  up 
in  perspective  before  me.  Hope  stops  not  here. 
Young  converts,  churches,  circuits,  stations,  and 
conferences,  I  trust,  will  yet  be  seen  in  Liberia." 

What  a  situation  for  the  encouragement  of 
thoughts  like  these  ! 

On  the  27th,  the  storm  raged  high,  and  he 
was  compelled  to  take  refuge  in  his  berth. 
He  writes — 

"  When  has  my  heart  been  so  much  comforted  as 
this  morning?  God  has  been  very  gracious  to  me. 
He  hath  not  dealt  with  me  according  to  my  sins. 
He  hath  been  very  gracious  and  kind,  condescended 
to  my  weakness,  made  to  my  poor  heart  such  heav- 
enly and  consoling  suggestions,  as  none  but  a  being 
of  infinite  goodness  could  make.  Oh  that  I  may  ap- 
preciate his  mercy.  Lord,  help  me.  I  want  to  do 
right.  I  want  to  be  holy.  Fit  me  in  soul  and  body 
for  the  great  work  to  which  I  trust  Thou  hast  called 
me." 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  103 

This  spirit  generally  pervades  his  reflec- 
tions,— quickened,  doubtless,  by  the  salutary 
influence  which  he  believed  himself  to  be  feel- 
ing in  his  frame,  from  the  voyage.  On  the 
15th  of  December,  having  now  been  out  the 
unusual  time  of  six  weeks,  without  making 
the  land  they  had  reason  to  look  for  long  be- 
fore, and  having  suffered  exceedingly  from 
sea-sickness  and  rough  weather,  (not  to  dwell 
upon  some  inconveniences  of  which  we  have 
concluded  that  a  sketch  may  as  well  be  spared,) 
his  expressions  are  thus  strong : 

"  I  thank  God  for  the  consolations  of  his  grace 
which  I  this  morning  feel  in  my  heart.  It  is  sweet — 
oh  !  it  is  sweet,  to  my  lonely  heart.  Afar  from  all 
that  nature  holds  dear,  in  the  midst  of  a  boundless 
■ocean,  and  among  sinners  who  care  but  little  for 
God  or  their  own  souls,  it  is  sweet — oh  !  it  is  sweet, 
to  feel  that  God  is  with  you,  and  that  his  Holy 
Spirit  is  within  you.  Such,  I  trust,  are  my  feelings 
this  morning.  O  God,  take  care  of  me.  Let  me 
not  sin  against  thee,  nor  do  anything  that  will 
grieve  thy  Spirit,  or  cause  it  for  one  moment  to  leave 
me  to  myself." 

And  the  next  day,  after  a  religious  service  on 
deck — 

"  I  know  not  when  I  have  engaged  my  mind  bet- 
ter, for  the  same  length   of  time,  than  since  I  left 


104  MEMOIR  OF 

land.  This  evening',  in  particular,  I  feel  sweet 
peace,  and  even  joy.  I  am  greatly  comforted.  The 
Lord  be  praised.  He  has  condescended  to  all  my 
weaknesses,  granted  me  heavenly  suggestions  in 
hours  of  trials,  and  borne  up  my  mind  in  its  loneli- 
ness, and  the  weakness  and  sickness  of  my  body,  in 
a  manner  almost  beyond  hope.  Oh  !  I  do  pray  for 
a  grateful  heart,  and  an  unreserved  dedication  of  all 
I  have  to  Christ  and  his  cause." 

Occasionally,  the  scene  around  him  was  de- 
lightfully in  unison  with  these  feelings.  On 
the  19th,  he  says — 

"  It  is  a  lovely  morning.  Spring  was  never  more 
bland.  The  sea  is  lulled  to  a  calm  ;  a  light  breeze 
is  bearing  us  along  about  three  knots  an  hour ;  a 
few  clouds  are  floating  in  the  atmosphere,  tinged 
with  all  the  softness  and  mellowness  of  a  May  or 
June  morning ;  and  everything,  on  which  the  eye 
can  rest,  seems  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  scene." 

But  laud  was  still  hidden  behind  the  deep 
blue  swell  of  the  eastern  sea,  though  it  re- 
mained for  days  so  calm  that  the  slightest  boat 
might  ride  it  with  safety ;  and  the  listless  crew 
could  find  no  employment  but  to  scatter  them- 
selves about  the  sunny  deck,  mending  the  sails, 
while  the  captain  painted  the  long-boat,  and 
the  mate,  for  his  amusement  below,  idled  his 
*'  watch  "  away  in  adorning  the  cover  of  his 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  105 

"log"  with  the  draft  of  an  American  eagle. 
The  number  of  the  ship's  company,  we  might 
have  before  remarked,  was  fifty-four,  includ- 
ing thirty-nine  emigrants,  and  one  passenger, 
(Mr.  Willis,)  with  Mr.  Cox,  in  the  cabin.  His 
communication  with  these  people  helped  to 
pass  the  time ;  and  it  is  curious,  how,  under 
such  circumstances,  the  mind  busies  itself  with 
the  trifling  incidents  of  the  voyage,  magnify- 
ing them  into  events^  and  working  out  of  them 
tissues  of  thought  that  invest  more  or  less 
the  reflections  of  days.  These,  however,  are 
of  little  interest  to  those  who  read.  They  are 
scarcely  concerned  to  discuss  the  luminous 
phenomena  of  the  waves,  or  to  moralize  on  the 
spouting  of  a  troop  of  whales,  the  dropping  of 
a  weary  sea-bird  on  the  deck,  the  evolutions 
of  a  flock  of  flying  fish,  or  the  passage  of  a 
squadron  of  the  beautiful  nautiluses,  (Portu- 
guese men-of-war  the  sailors  call  them,)  with 
their  delicately-colored  little  sails  run  up,  and 
spread  out  to  the  breeze  of  the  morning. 

At  length,  early  on  the  24th,  all  hands  were 
roused  by  the  cry  of  land,  dimly  discerned,  or 
thought  to  be,  at  a  great  distance,  but  not 
fairly  ascertained  till  the  27th,  when  they  put 
into  Port  Praya,  or  St.  Jago,  one  of  the  Cape 
de  Verds.  Here  was  the  melancholy  sight  of 
the  poor   natives,    still   perishing  daily  with 


106  MEMOIR  OF 

famine,  although  two  vessels,  laden  witli  stores, 
had  arrived  from  America.  INIr.  Cox  was  re- 
freshed with  the  feeling  of  the  soil  once  more, 
after  being  deprived  of  it  for  over  fifty  days, 
and  with  the  society  of  the  American  Consul, 
(with  whom  he  dined,)  and  some  other  coun- 
trymen. They  sailed  again  on  the  first  day  of 
the  new  year,  passing  for  hours  along  under 
the  banks  of  the  beautiful  island  of  Mayo.  On 
the  8th,  the  African  coast  was  made,  at  Cape 
Verd.  The  next  day,  they  put  into  Goree, 
but  without  remaining  long,  ran  down  the 
coast  to  the  Gambia,  with  a  fine  breeze,  in 
sight  all  the  way  of  the  green  and  gentle 
undulations  of  the  shore,  everywhere  spot- 
ted with  splendid  palm-trees,  and  presenting 
to  the  eye  of  the  missionary,  who  now  hailed 
it  as  his  home,  the  most  interesting  and  lovely 
aspect.  On  the  12th,  they  made  their  way 
up  the  noble  stream  of  the  Gambia,  and  an- 
chored off  the  English  town  of  Bathurst,  on 
the  Isle  of  St.  Mary's.  Here  they  remained  a 
week,  and  ample  opportunities  were  enjoyed 
for  exploring  the  country,  which,  it  will  be 
seen,  were  improved  diligently  by  Mr.  Cox. 
His  acquaintance  here  with  the  governor's 
chaplain,  and  especially  with  Mr.  Moister,  the 
Wesleyan  missionary,  proved  a  source  of  equal 
benefit  and  pleasure.      Here  he   preached   to 


MELVILLE   B,  COX.  107 

heathen,  strictly,  for  the  first  time  in  his  Hfe, 
with  an  interpreter's  aid,  and  having  a  house 
nearly  filled  with  an  audience  as  attentive 
as  civilized  congregations  generally  are,  and 
some  of  them  deeply  serious.  This  service,  as 
well  as  his  conversations  with  the  Mohamme- 
dan priests  who  came  to  see  him,  moved  him 
in  the  liveliest  manner.  He  left  Bathurst  on 
the  whole  greatly  encouraged,  and  with  a  de- 
cidedly improved  opinion  even  of  the  African 
climate.  He  commenced  studying  the  Man- 
dingo  language  as  soon  as  they  put  to  sea 
again,  though  still  suffering  from  the  motion 
of  the  ship.  They  were  driven  off"  to  a  great 
distance  from  the  land,  by  terrible  gales,  con- 
tinuing for  days  ;  but  his  heart  "■  was  fixed." 

"  I  know  not,"  he  says,  "  when  I  have  felt  such 
strong  desires  to  be  wholly  given  up  to  the  work  of 
the  ministry — to  be  entirely  freed  from  selfish  views 
and  selfish  feelings  in  my  labor — as  now.  I  believe 
I  never  have  been  stronger,  since  the  commencement 
of  my  ministry.  My  cry  to  God  is  that  my  whole 
soul  may  be  absorbed  in  the  work  committed  to  my 
charge,  and  that  I  may  do  justice  to  my  mission. 
Many  of  my  brethren,  though  they  did  not  directly 
say  so  to  me,  thought,  I  am  sure,  that  my  ap- 
pointment was  a  very  injudicious  one.  I  am  not 
surprised  at  it.  In  human  view  it  did  look  like 
'  the  day  of  small  things.'     But,  I  bless  God,  faith 


168  MEMOIR  OF 

taught  me  that  He,  through  the  weakest  instru- 
ments, could  accomplish  his  greatest  purposes.  Be 
the  consequences  what  they  may,  I  never  was  surer 
of  anything  of  the  kind,  than  I  am  that  the  provi- 
dence of  God  has  led  me  here.  I  have  seen  his 
hand  in  it,  or  I  do  not  know  it  Avhen  seen.  Oh,  I 
trust  the  result  will  prove  to  the  world,  and  to  my 
brethren,  that  weak  as  I  am,  feeble  and  worn  out  as 
I  am,  the  Lord  hath  something  yet  for  me  to  do  in 
his  church." 

The  next  time  they  made  land,  it  was  in 
the  dark  of  the  morning,  and  so  closely  under 
the  coast,  that  there  was  just  room  to  swing 
off,  after  hastily  casting  the  anchor.  Luckily, 
they  got  clear  with  only  the  loss  of  one  of 
the  captain's  ostriches,  which  jumped  overboard 
in  the  alarm.     Of  this  shore  he  says  : 

"  Its  appearance  is  beautiful — hilly,  and  delight- 
fully verdant,  hideed,  the  land  on  the  Avhole  coast, 
so  far  as  we  have  run  it  down,  has  the  appearance 
of  a  healthy  and  fertile  country,  as  inviting  to  man 
as  any  part  of  America.  My  fond  hopes  may  all 
be  disappointed,  but  it  would  not  surprise  me,  if  in 
half  a  century,  Africa  were  to  show  herself  as  far 
ih  the  advancement  of  civilization,  religion  and 
learning,  as  America  in  the  same  space  of  time  ; 
nay,  I  doubt  if  she  does  not  equal  anything  in 
the  history  of  the  rise  of  nations.  She  has  slum- 
bered long,  but  the  hidden  waters  have  been  gather- 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  109 

ing  Strength.     Genius  will  burst  forth,  and  grow, 
with  the  luxuriance  of  the  trees  of  her  own  forests." 

He  passed  next  hy  the  De  Las  islands,  a 
charming  group,  stretching  high  up  from  the 
sea,  and  everywhere  covered  with  verdure  and 
abundance  of  trees.  The  sim  now  was  for  the 
first  time  oppressive,  in  the  African  sense,  and 
the  voyage  became  rather,  as  he  calls  it,  a 
school  of  patience  ;  the  more  so  that  he  knew 
himself  to  be  so  near  to  the  destination  he  was 
still  so  slow  to  reach.  The  29th,  at  last,  found 
them  moored  off  Sierra  Leone.  Here  he  was 
destined  to  spend  a  month,  making  four,  at  his 
departure,  since  hauling  off  in  the  stream  at 
Norfolk.  Mr.  Moister  had  given  him  letters  to 
his  reverend  brother  Ritchie,  who,  with  his 
colleague,  treated  him  very  kindly  during  his 
stay  here,  most  of  which  seems  to  have  been  at 
the  Mission-House.  A  good  deal  of  useful  infor- 
mation concerning  the  country  and  the  natives 
was  gathered  here,  and  some  progress  made  in 
collecting  the  facilities  for  studying  the  dia- 
lects, in  which  he  was  particularly  indebted 
to  Mr.  Raban,  the  Church  missionary,  whose 
establishment  he  visited  at  Foiu'ah  Bay.  On 
his  passage  down  the  coast,  the  captain  was 
taken  sick,  entirely  disabled,  and  even  deliri- 
ous.    Mr.  Cox,  (who  had  no  especial  cause  to 


110  MEMOIR  OF 

be  personally  attached  to  him,)  attended  him 
anxiously  during  his  illness,  acted  as  his  phy- 
sician, and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  the 
better  for  his  treatment.  At  the  same  time,  he 
aided  the  mate  in  taking  his  "  observations," 
and  otherwise  made  himself  of  service.  His 
anxiety  now  hourly  increased,  as  the  journal 
shows.  It  illustrates  also  his  first  impressions 
of  the  colony,  with  some  of  his  plans,  and  the 
energy  with  which  he  set  himself  to  his  icork : 

"  At  twelve,  took  another  observation.  Accord- 
ing- to  mine,  we  are  eight  miles  north  of  our  long 
looked-for  port.  The  mate  made  it  one  more.  I 
have  perhaps  never  felt  more  anxiety  to  be  on  shore 
than  now.  The  sight  of  the  bay,  and  the  thoughts 
of  my  mission  here,  have  awakened  within  me  a 
degree  of  impatience  to  be  where  I  ought  to  have 
been  months  ago.  But,  if  a  fault,  it  is  not  mine. 
Eight  or  wrong,  I  believe  God  will  overrule  the 
whole  for  the  good  of  his  cause,  in  which  I  trust  I 
am  engaged. 

"  Half  past  three  : — I  have  seen  Liberia,  and  live. 
It  rises  up,  as  yet,  but  like  a  cloud  of  heaven. 

"  Friday,  March  8. — Thank  God,  I  am  now  at 
Liberia.  We  anchored  off  the  town  last  evening, 
about  ten  o'clock.  This  morning,  about  eight,  I 
came  on  shore.  The  governor  received  me  kindly, 
and  I  am  now  at  Rev.  Brother  Finney's  room, 
where  I  am  to  tarry  till  farther  provisions  arc  made 
for  me. 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  Ill 

"  Captain  Peters  is  quite  ill ;  and  my  care  of  him, 
and  loss  of  rest  and  sleep,  have  made  me  quite  in- 
disposed. 

"  Saturday,  9. — Rev.  Brother  Williams,  the  act- 
ing governor  of  the  colony,  has  very  kindly  given 
me  up  his  own  room,  until  I  can  obtain  a  house. 
The  governor  bids  me  board  with  him. 

Sunday,  10. — I  can  scarcely  realize  that  I  have 
attended  church  in  Liberia,  and  heard  the  gospel 
where,  twelve  years  since,  were  heard  only  the 
shouts  of  the  pagan,  or  perhaps  the  infidel  prayers 
of  the  mussulman.  But  why  wonder  ?  God's  light 
and  truth  have  long  since  received  that  divine  im- 
petus which  will  stop  only  with  the  conversion  of  a 
world. 

"  Tuesday,  12. — I  love  Liberia  more  than  ever. 
It  is  humble  in  its  appearance,  compared  with  Ba- 
thurst  and  Free  Town ;  its  buildings  are  smaller, 
and  have  less  neatness,  less  taste,  and  less  comfort 
about  them.  But,  after  all,  I  doubt  if  this  be  a  real 
fault.  The  emigrants  were  mostly  poor  on  their 
arrival,  and  necessity,  in  the  true  spirit  of  the  pil- 
grims of  New  England,  as  the  mother  of  virtue, 
compelled  them  to  be  economical.  Time  and  in- 
dustry will  remedy  the  evil,  if  evil  it  be.  The 
great  question  is — Is  there  a  good  foundation  ?  are 
there  resozirces  in  Liberia  for  a  great  and  growing 
republic  ?  I  have  no  doubt  of  it.  There  is,  how- 
ever, much  yet  to  be  done.  We  need  missions — 
missions  by  white  men  here.     We  need,  too,  schools, 


ITSi  MEMOIR  OF 

and  7ohite  teachers  in  them.  Should  a  gracious 
God  spare  my  life,  I  propose — 

"  1.  To  establish  a  mission  at  Grand  Bassa,  to 
connect  with  it  a  school,  and  to  give  the  care  of  both 
into  the  hands  of  a  local  preacher  who  has  just 
arrived  from  Virginia. 

"  2.  To  establish  the  '  New  York  Mission '  at 
Sego,  on  the  Niger.  Our  brother,  to  get  there,  must 
go  by  the  way  of  the  Gambia  river.  He  can  ascend 
this  river  within  ten  days'  walk  of  the  Tanen.  At 
Tenda,  Mr.  Grant,  a  merchant  at  Bathurst,  on  the 
Gambia,  and  a  great  friend  of  the  Methodists,  has  a 
factory  ;  and  by  the  time  our  missionary  can  get 
there,  he  will  have  another  at  Sego. 

"  3.  I  want  to  establish  a  school  here,  which  will 
connect  with  it  agriculture  and  art.  I  propose  the 
Maine  Wesleyan  Seminary  as  a  model,  as  near  as 
may  be.  There  should  be  a  large  farm.  This,  in  a 
few  years,  would  support  the  whole  school.  There 
must  also  be  shoemakers,  tanners,  blacksmiths,  car- 
penters, &c.  The  native  children  must  be  taken 
and  boarded,  kept  entirely  clear  from  their  parents 
or  associates,  and  bound  to  the  school  until  they  are 
eighteen  or  twenty-one. 

"  4.  I  have  another  mission  on  my  mind,  either 
for  the  interior  or  at  Cape  Mount.  I  am  not  yet 
satisfied  which  is  the  better  place. 

"  I  have  purchased  a  mission  house  at  Monrovia, 
for  which  I  shall  draw  on  the  Society  for  five  hun- 
dred dollars.     It  has  connected  with  it  considerable 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  113 

land,  left  by  the  devoted  Ashmun  for  missionary 
purposes.  I  consider  the  purchase  as  particularly 
providential,  and  worth,  at  least,  to  the  mission,  a 
thousand  dollars." 

The  house  mentioned  above  was  one  which, 
with  the  land  around  it,  had  been  left  by  Mr. 
Ashmun  to  the  Basle  Mission.  This  had  been 
transferred  to  Sierra  Leone,  where  Mr.  Cox 
had  met  their  agent,  and  negotiated  with  him 
conditionally.  He  considered  his  bargain  ju- 
dicious, inasmuch  as  the  house  cost  three  times 
as  much  as  he  gave  for  it,  and  would  be  neces- 
sary for  himself,  as  boarding  was  out  of  the 
question,  even  if  no  other  missionaries  should 
follow  him.  He  began  living  in  it,  accord- 
ingly, on  the  21st,  though  in  rather  humble 
style,  having  at  that  time  no  bedstead,  nor  a 
single  thing  to  cook  with,  nor  anything  to  cook 
but  half  a  barrel  of  flour,  which  he  purchased. 
He  now  considered  himself  in  better  health 
than  he  had  been  for  months ;  and  as  late  as 
April  4th,  four  weeks  from  his  landing,  his 
opinion  was  the  same.  Meanwhile  he  had 
spared  himself  but  little.  He  had  visited  and 
carefully  examined  the  Sunday  schools;  com- 
municated in  private  freely  with  many  of  his 
brethren  of  the  church ;  set  in  motion  at  Cald- 
well  the  first  camp-meeting,   probably,   that 


114  MEMOIR  OF 

ever  was  known  on  the  continent ;  attended  to 
special  appointments  of  fasting,  thanksgiving 
and  prayer ;  and  called  together  two  Confer- 
ences, for  the  transaction  of  the  important 
business  of  his  mission.  This  was  in  addition 
to  all  his  private  labors.  Unusual  anxiety 
and  exertion  also  were  attached  to  the  affairs 
discussed  by  the  Conference.  We  need  not 
here  enlarge  upon  them.  It  is  sufficient  to  ob- 
serve, that,  while  it  was  voted  to  receive  Mr. 
Cox  in  the  capacity  of  his  appointment,  the 
Conference  refused,  by  one  or  two  votes,  to 
adopt  what  he  considered  an  indispensable  re- 
formatory regulation,  intended  to  prevent,  for 
the  future,  the  administration  of  the  holy  sa- 
crament by  any  persons  not  authorized  so  to 
do,  regularly,  by  the  regular  Episcopacy  of 
the  parent  church  in  America.  This  point, 
however,  could  not  be  yielded,  in  the  opinion 
of  Mr.  Cox ;  and  he  pressed  it  so  efficiently, 
and  at  the  same  time  in  such  a  spirit,  that  at 
another  meeting,  soon  after,  of  preachers  and 
people,  which  was  cogently  addressed  by  him- 
self, "the  result,"  as  he  expresses  it,  "was  of 
God,"  for  almost  all  present  gave  in  their 
names.  Meanwhile,  he  had  convened  a,  vigor- 
ous Sunday  school  meeting :  this  gave  the 
cause  an  impulse,  and  the  next  Sabbath,  he 
began  himself  with  a  school  of  70  children, 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  115 

with  appearances  "warranting  high  hopes  of 
the  result."  But  here  he  was  destined  to  sus- 
pend his  labors.  The  influence  of  the  climate, 
which  perhaps  his  very  solicitude  and  occupa- 
tion had  parried  for  a  while,  was  probably  ag- 
gravated by  them  in  fact ;  and  the  first  out- 
breaking, when  his  chief  troubles  were  just 
over,  was  severe  in  proportion.  He  felt  the 
African  fever  on  the  12th  of  the  month,  for 
the  first  time,  and  it  almost  immediately  struck 
through  his  whole  system.  For  twelve  days 
it  kept  him  on  his  bed  ;  and  it  was  not  till  the 
27th  that  he  was  able  to  walk  a  few  steps  in 
his  room.  He  now  experienced  in  his  own 
person  the  benefit  of  his  medical  science ;  the 
doctor  visited  him  but  twice.  He  took  cold, 
however,  by  damp  clothes  or  otherwise,  and 
grew  weak  again.  Death  had  visited  the 
houses  around  him ;  the  periodical  rains  were 
setting  in  ;  the  governor  and  doctor  were  both 
confined  to  their  beds ;  and  now,  (it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at,)  ^'- Ids  eye  began  to  turn  to  the 
grave.'' ^ 

"  But,"  he  adds,  "  if  I  gain  heaven — if,  after  all,  I 
get  where  Jesus  is — it  will  be  enough  ; — it  will  be 
enough.  I  shall  see  him  as  he  is.  Nor  pain  nor 
death  will  be  there.  I  commend  to  him  my  body 
and  my  spirit ;  his  they  are." 


ll§  MEMOIR  OF 

If  he  felt  a  little  solitary,  or  even  "a  lit- 
tle sad,"  in  his  present  situation,  it  were  no 
great  marvel.  It  was  a  most  melancholy  time 
around  him,  especially  among  his  fellow  emi- 
grants. The  colonists  were  probably  disposed 
to  look  rather  coldly  on  the  coming  of  a  white 
man,  to  rule  over  them,  especially  with  re- 
forming authority ;  and  much  cordiality,  even 
in  his  sickness,  was  hardly  to  be  expected  from 
them.  A  nurse,  meanwhile,  could  not  be  had 
much  of  the  time,  for  love  or  money.  The 
rains  kept  everything  gloomy  outside,  and  eve- 
rything damp  within  ;  and  his  house  was  not 
as  yet  furnished  with  so  much  as  a  chimney. 
That,  suifering  the  pains  of  a  fever  the  while, 
he  could  be  at  ease  under  such  circumstances, 
speaks  something  for  the  power  of  the  prayer 
of  the  righteous  man  ;  for  this  was  his  consola- 
tion. "Most  of  the  day,  yesterday,  I  spent 
in  breathing  my  soul  out  to  God,  either  to  be 
restored  to  usefulness,  or  fitted  for  heaven ;  and 
to-day  I  feel  that  it  has  not  been  in  vain.  This 
evening,  my  soul  has  been  much  comforted." 
On  the  11th  of  May,  previous  to  which  he  had 
what  he  calls  "  another  fall-back,"  with  se- 
verer chills  than  he  had  before  known,  he  ex- 
presses himself  as  folloAvs  : 

"  Oh  !  sweet,  sweet  has  been  this  morning  to  my 
soul.     Such  a  morning  I  have  not  seen,  in  all  my 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  117 

sickness  in  Africa.  For  eight  years  past,  God  hath 
chastened  me  with  sickness  and  suffering ;  but  this 
morning,  I  see  and  feel  that  it  has  been  done  for 
my  good.  Infinite  mercy  saw  that  it  was  necessary, 
and  perhaps  the  only  means  to  secure  my  salvation. 
Through  it  all  I  have  passed  many  a  storm,  many 
temptations ;  but  this  morning,  doubts  and  fears 
have  been  brushed  away.  My  soul  was  feasted 
'  while  it  was  yet  dark.'  When  no  eye  could  see 
but  his,  and  no  ear  hear  my  voice  but  his,  I  had 
those  feelings,  that  made  pain  sweet,  and  suffering 
as  though  I  suffered  not.  Yes,  I  can  never  forget 
this  blessed  Saturday  morning." 

Some  days  after  this,  he  began  to  feel  better, 
but  "hardly  dared  to  express  it."  He  derived 
much  pleasure  from  an  occasional  call  of  Mr. 
Pinney,  whom  (a  Presbyterian)  he  invited,  in 
the  absence  of  any  regularly  ordained  elder,  to 
preach  and  administer  the  holy  sacrament,  for 
his  people.  Some  of  the  neighbors  now  began 
to  show  him  a  good  deal  of  kind  attention  : 
their  prejudice  was  removed  and  changed  into 
admiration  and  love,  as  they  became  better  in- 
formed of  his  character  :  and  they  brought  and 
sent  him  the  little  delicacies  which  the  place 
afforded.  This  faculty  of  making  friends  he 
felt  the  benefit  of,  even  in  the  acquaintance  of 
an  intelligent  young  Krooman,  whom  he  had 
conversed  with  a  little  on  the  day  of  his  leav- 


118  MEMOIR    OF 

ing  the  Jupiter.  The  good  fellow  frequently 
afterwards  came  "to  see  how  he  do."  He 
called  during  his  sickness,  expressing  great  so- 
licitude for  him.  "  Suppose  me  no  poor  man," 
he  said,  "then  me  bring  you  fowl — me  bring  you 
sheep,  to  make  soup — so  you  get  well ;  but  me 
have  none ;  me  want  to  see  you — so  me  come." 
He  then  added,  with  evident  emotion,  "  when 
me  go  home,  me  beg  God  that  he  make  you 
well !  "  The  idea  of  this  poor  fellow,  whom 
many  considered  beyond  the  power  of  the  gos- 
pel, going  home  to  pray  God  for  his  recovery, 
was  a  ^Wepasf  to  the  soul  of  the  sick  man. 

Another  incident  gratified  him  much.  This 
was  the  reformation,  as  he  believed,  of  the  col- 
ored boy  he  had  purchased  at  Baltimore,  and 
brought  with  him  to  the  colony.  The  conduct 
of  the  lad,  at  times,  had  tried  him  sorely.  At 
Norfolk,  he  had  been  detected  in  stealing,  un- 
der aggravated  circumstances;  and  then  he 
was  strongly  tempted  to  abandon  him  to  his 
fate.  He  concluded,  however,  that  he  could 
take  as  good  care  of  him  as  anybody  else,  and 
perhaps  better ;  and  that  he  was,  in  some  sort, 
responsible  for  him : — he  kept  him,  therefore. 
At  Sierra  Leone,  he  made  great  trouble  again, 
by  going  to  the  authorities,  and  making  false 
representations  of  his  relation  to.  his  benefactor. 
He  had  patience  with  him  still,  and  now  re- 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  119 

joiced  the  more  over  the  repentance  which  had 
been  wrought  in  him  at  the  Caldwell  meeting. 
It  matters  not,  he  says,  how  he  has  treated 
me ;  it  is  enough  if  God  has  forgiven  him  and 
saved  him. 

A  somewhat  similar  evidence  of  his  kind 
and  tender  disposition  appeared  not  long  after, 
on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  a  next  door 
neighbor  of  his,  with  his  wife — probably  fel- 
low emigrants — leaving  one  little  orphan  boy, 
of  six  years  old,  to  the  mercy  of  the  world. 
"  He  is  a  fine  little  boy  (colored,)  and  as  he 
has  no  one  to  take  him  in,  I  have  offered  him 
a  home  for  a  while  ;  and  should  I  think  it  the 
will  of  God,  after  reflection,  /  intend  to  take 
him  and  educate  him,  as  a  child  of  mine.  I 
know  what  it  is  to  have  been  an  orphan.  I 
pray  God  to  help  me  to  train  him  up  in  his 
fear."  This  was  one  of  the  last  acts  of  the  life 
of  Cox,  and  it  was  beautifully  characteristic  of 
the  man.  A  house-keeper  he  had  hired,  at  this 
time,  was  sick;  and  her  little  boy  was  the 
only  person  about  him,  to  make  him  now  and 
then  a  cup  of  tea ;  and  when  he  was  able  to 
eat,  to  boil  him  the  rice,  which,  with  a  little 
palm-oil,  composed  his  frugal  meal.  The  poor 
mission-house,  in  a  heavy  rain,  "  looked  as  if 
tubs  of  water  had  been  poured  into  one  room." 
It  began  also  to  be  infested  with  some  of  the 


120  MEMOIR   OF 

vermin  of  the  climate.  In  reaching  for  a  book 
from  a  slielf,  about  this  time,  he  started  a  scor- 
pion with  his  finger.  The  house-species  have 
not  generally  a  fatal  sting,  though  this  animal 
made  attempts  to  infuse  his  poison,  such  as  it 
was,  by  the  vigorous  management  oi  liis. 

On  the  21st,  Mr.  Pinney,  having  resolved  on 
returning  to  America  till  the  end  of  the  rains, 
came  in  to  take  leave  of  his  sick  friend.  This 
visit  suggested,  for  the  second  time,  (according 
to  the  journal.)  the  idea  of  his  own  return, 
upon  the  same  plan.  He  appears  to  have 
thought  over  the  matter,  but,  on  the  Avhole, 
did  not  feel  justified  in  taking  that  course. 
Had  his  brethren  joined  him,  any  of  them,  he 
would  have  felt  at  liberty  to  do  so  :  as  it  was, 
he  considered  it  his  duty  to  maintain  his  post, 
as  well  and  as  long  as  he  might.  The  trial 
was  the  greater,  as  he  now  saw  the  greatness 
of  the  work  to  be  done  around  him.  "  There 
is  labor  in  Africa,"  he  says,  "for  thousands;" 
and  he  had  a  firmer  belief  than  ever  in  the  prac- 
ticability of  performing  it.  Many  were  discour- 
aged as  to  missions  among  the  natives ;  but  he 
had  seen  and  heard,  with  his  own  eyes  and 
ears,  the  effects  of  faithful  labors  on  the  banks 
of  the  Gambia ;  and  he  kneio,  also,  without 
such  facts,  he  says,  that  Africa  must  be  re- 
deemed, and  that  there  was  power  in  the  gos- 


MELVILLE  B.    COX.  121 

pel  to  do  it.  The  obstacles,  which  seemed  to 
some  men  as  a  lion  in  the  way,  were  to  him 
ajs  a  "spider's  web."  In  this  faith  he  ap- 
parently continued  unfaltering  to  the  last.  As 
long  as  any  strength  remained,  he  continued 
to  use  it,  as  well  as  he  could,  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  his  work.  His  anxieties  in  regard  to 
the  movements  he  was  compelled  to  suspend, 
may  be  inferred,  but  of  them  he  has  said  little ; 
his  great  purpose  now  was  to  possess  his  soul 
in  patience.  He  busied  himself,  at  intervals, 
in  making,  or  trying  to  make,  some  arrange- 
ments for  the  improvement  of  the  mission- 
grounds,  but  could  do  but  little. 

Little  more,  indeed,  remained  for  him  to  do. 
His  career  was  drawing  rapidly  to  its  close. 
On  the  27th  of  May,  the  next  day  after  the 
adoption  of  the  little  orphan,  he  was  taken 
down  with  a  bilious  attack,  more  violent  than 
any  which  had  preceded  it.  On  the  28th,  he 
says,  "I  am  very  weak.  I  pray  God  to  pre- 
serve me.  Never  did  I  feel  the  need  of  his 
aid  more — perhaps  never  so  much."  Then 
it  came  on  again,  racking  him  through  and 
tlirough.  And  now  the  records  of  his  journal 
grow  few  and  far  between  ;  and  the  characters 
of  the  only  two  pages  which  remain,  for  the 
last  two  months  of  his  life,  are  tremulously 
traced,  with  fingers  whose   every  movement 


122  MEMOIR  OF 

told  but  too  plainly  how  the  yet  lingering  vigor 
of  a  once  iron  constitution  had  retreated  from 
its  dismantled  and  tottering  extremities  for- 
ever. We  copy  the  whole ;  for  feeble,  and  al- 
most illegible  as  it  is,  it  breathes,  to  the  last 
pulses  of  weary  thought,  the  spirit  of  the  in- 
flexible christian  soldier,  who  had  set  up  long 
before,  for  his  dying  mottoes — '^ Never  give  np 
the  mission  /  "  and,  ^^ Africa  must  be  redeemed^ 
though  thousands  perish ! " 

"  Wednesday,  June  19, — My  fever  has  left  me  a 
mere  shadow — perhaps  I  shall  soon  be  but  a  spirit. 
I  am  content.  God  has  graciously  supported  me. 
I  have  been  much  comforted.  God  is  my  rock — 
Christ  my  salvation — the  Holy  Spirit  my  sanctifier — 
and  a  triune  God  my  eternal  all. 

"  Friday,  21. — I  still  grow  more  feeble.  This 
morning-,  my  stomach  seems  too  irritable  for  any- 
thing. It  is  all  well.  Nature  dies,  but  I  shall  live 
again.  I  think  I  feel  patience,  peace,  and  resigna- 
tion. 

"  To-day,  I  expect  the  governor  to  make  a  few 
arrangements  in  my  business.  My  brethren  ought 
to  have  been  here,  to  have  relieved  me  from  it. 

"  Sunday,  23. — My  poor  body  is  emaciated  to  a 
degree  never  before  known.  My  first  fever  was 
very  violent,  and  ten  or  twelve  days  long,  and  re- 
duced me  much  ;  my  second,  which  was  short,  but 
no  less  violent,  helped  it  on  ;  but  my  third,  which 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  123 

has  been  more  violent  and  longer  than  either,  has 
left  me  mere  skin  and  bones.  Every  day  tells 
me  the  chances  are  against  me.  But  why  write 
it  ?  God  I  know  is  doing  all  things  well.  This  is 
enough. 

"  Wednesday,  26. — It  is  now  four  days  since  I 
have  seen  a  physician.  The  Governor  is  confined 
to  his  room.  My  fever  was  dreadfully  high  last 
night.  This  morning,  I  feel  as  feeble  as  mortality 
can   well.     To  God  I  commit  all." 

Two  days  previous  to  the  date  of  the  last 
entry,  he  had  affixed  his  signature  to  a  paper 
intended  as  a  codicil  to  a  will  formerly  drawn 
up  at  Norfolk,  and  forwarded  to  Maine.  This 
was  confirmatory  of  the  disposition  of  his  little 
property  there  indicated,  with  a  few  trifling  ad- 
ditions, including  the  bequest  of  a  pair  of  maps 
to  the  Sabbath  and  parish  school  lately  under 
his  charge,  and  the  distribution  of  a  few  me- 
morials among  his  relatives.  From  the  com- 
munication of  his  friends  Gripon  and  Ward,  to 
whom  he  entrusted  the  care  of  this  document, 
it  appears  that  by  a  later  verbal  request,  he 
directed  a  similar  disposal  of  his  watch,  his 
desk,  and  a  lock  of  his  own  hair,  together  with 
a  lock  which  they  say  they  "found  bound 
with  riband,"  his  mother's  miniature,  and  a 
ring  of  gold  from  the  Gambia.     He  lingered, 


124  MEMOIR  OF 

but  it  would  appear  in  little  more  than  a 
merely  vital  condition  for  the  most  part,  im- 
til  three  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Sunday 
the  21st  of  July,  when  he  calmly  ceased  to 
breathe. 

Some  additional  particulars,  in  regard  to  the 
closing  scene,  are  conveyed  in  the  following 
letter  from  Mr.  Savage,  the  missionary,  pub- 
lished in  the  Maine  Wesleyan  Journal.  We 
insert  it  entire. 

"  Monrovia,  July  22,  1833. 
Dear  Sir  : — As  you  wish  to  know  of  the  last  mo- 
ments of  Br.  Cox,  though  I  had  intended  to  write  to 
the  editor  of  the  Journal,  I  now  put  in  your  posses- 
sion all  I  know  of  the  conversation  we  had,  trusting 
that  you  will  not  fail  to  give  all  you  deem  important 
to  his  bereaved  and  mourning  friends.  When  I  first 
came  on  shore,  having  a  package  for  him,  I  took  an 
early  opportunity  to  call,  having  previously  under- 
stood that  he  was  low  with  sickness.  At  my  call  he 
seemed  highly  gratified,  and  spoke  with  freedom  and 
apparent  ease  on  all  subjects  connected  with  the 
mission.  He  expressed  his  regret  that  the  assistant 
missionaries  had  not  arrived,  and  mourned  over  the 
low  state  of  Zion  in  this  place.  I  inquired  of  him  if 
he  intended  to  return  to  America ;  he  seemed  to 
hesitate  in  his  answer,  and  said  he  did  not  know. 
He  was  at  this  time  quite  cheerful,  and  his  nurse 
informed  me  that  he  appeared  much  better  than  he 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  125 

really  was,  probably  owing  to  his  having  heard  from 
America,  as  I  was  the  bearer  of  a  letter  from  the 
Eev.  Mr.  Drake,  of  New  Orleans.     The  next  time  I 
called,  he  appeared  to  have  thought  more  of  return- 
ing home ;  and  when  he  found   that  I   intended  to 
return,  he  expressed  his  regret,  urging  the  necessity 
of  laborers  in  this  part  of  the  vineyard.    At  this  time 
I  supposed  it  necessary  for  me   to  return,  but  after 
visiting  Millsburgh  I  came  to  a  different  conclusion. 
Before  I  left,  when   speaking  of  the  probability  of 
returning  home,  he  said  he  thought  he  should  return 
with  Capt.  Abels,  but  still   appeared  low  in  spirits. 
When  endeavoring  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  it,  and 
asking  him  if  he  enjoyed  his  mind,  he  said,  though 
depressed,  he  knew  not  that  he  had  ever  doubted  his 
acceptance  with  God ;   he   had   long  since   made  a 
covenant  v^^ith  him,  and  did  not  distrust  his  mercy, 
but  had  sometimes  doubted  whether  he  was  in  his 
proper    sphere.      '  Though,'    said    he,    '  I    know   I 
had  good  motives   in  coming  to  Africa,  yet- 1  may 
have  erred  in  judgment,  for  even  the  best  may  some- 
times err.'    He  further  said — '  I  have  strong  attach- 
ments in  America.'     He  spoke  with  emphasis  on  all 
subjects  connected  with  his  mission,  especially  the 
schools,   one   of  which  was   about  commencing  at 
Grand  Bassa  ;  and  seemed  much  to  lament  that  the 
teacher  had  not  arrived  for  this  place.     The  above  is 
the  tenor  of  his  conversation.     About  this  time  I  left 
for  Millsburgh,  and  was  absent  about  three  days.    On 
my  return  I  found  him  much  worse,  having  taken  a 


126  MEMOIR    OF 

relapse ;  and  although  I  had  made  my  arrangements 
to  return  in  the  same  boat  in  which  I  came  down, 
having  made  up  my  mind  to  stay  in  Africa,  yet  at  his 
request  I  dismissed  the  boat,  concluding  to  remain 
until  Monday,  it  being  Saturday  morning.  At  this 
time  he  was  very  weak  and  unable  to  say  but  a  few 
words  at  a  time ;  still  he  seemed  anxious  to  return 
home,  and  spoke  of  it,  but  at  the  same  time  appeared 
resigned,  and  seemed  conscious  of  the  probable  near- 
ness of  his  death.  He  also  said  everything  was 
arranged,  and  though  I  frequently  asked  him  if  there 
was  not  some  person  whom  he  wished  to  see,  he 
uniformly  said  everything  was  arranged.  He  also 
said  his  whole  trust  was  in  God.  Mentioning  the 
infinite  love  and  condescension  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  in 
giving  himself  a  ransom  for  his  rebellious  and  guilty 
creatures,  he  added,  '  all  my  hope  is  through  him.' 
When  near  his  last,  and  unable  to  speak  so  as  to  be 
understood,  except  in  monosyllables,  he  again  said — 
'I  am  not  afraid  to  die.'  This  was  pronounced  at 
intervals  of  some  length,  and  with  much  exertion. 
Though  from  the  nature  of  his  disease  respiration  was 
very  difficult,  and  he  apparently  suffering  much,  yet 
he  uniformly  said  he  was  in  no  pain.  Soon  after,  he 
appeared  engaged  in  prayer,  and  then  articulated 
several  times  in  succession — '  Come  ' — a  considerable 
pause  succeeding,  leaving  the  inference  that  he  re- 
peated the  whole  sentence — '  Come,  Lord  Jesus, 
come  quickly.'  Reviving  a  little,  he  pronounced  dis- 
tinctly, 'Pen,'  which  I  immediately  stepped  to  get; 


MELVILLE    B.    COX.  127 

but  he,  supposing  I  did  not  understand  him,  said, 
'  Ink,' — both  of  which  I  brought  to  his  bedside,  but 
he  was  so  overcome  by  this  last  exertion,  that  he 
could  say  nothing  more  except  at  intervals — 'Come.' 
This  was  about  one  o'clock.  About  three  he  turned 
on  his  side  and  seemed  easy ;  his  nurse  thought  best 
not  to  disturb  him,  as  he  had  frequently  given  direc- 
tions when  he  was  easy  not  to  be  disturbed.  But 
his  ease  was  the  moment  of  his  departure.  The 
conflict  now  closed,  and  he  breathed  forth  his  soul 
into  the  arms  of  his  Redeemer,  leaving  Africa  and 
his  christian  friends  to  mourn  their  loss,  though  infi- 
nitely his  gain. 

Your  affectionate  brother  in  the  Lord, 

A.  W.  SAVAGE." 

Such  was  the  life,  and  such  the  death,  of 
the  first  Methodist  missionary  from  America 
to  Africa.  His  remains  were  solemnly  inter- 
red, with  more  than  ordinary  marks  of  atten- 
tion ;  for  he  had  been  long  enough  already  in 
the  land  of  his  adoption,  brief  as  his  stay  was 
on  its  shores,  to  win  the  warm  regard  of  all 
who  knew  him.  Where  he  was  buried,  we 
have  not  asked ;  nor  whether  so  much  as  a 
stone  points  to  the  place  where  the  lips  of  the 
preacher  of  glad  tidings  are  silent,  and  the 
bones  that  ached  so  long  shall  ache  no  more. 
It  matters  but  little.  He  thought  so  himself 
of  the  graves  of  the  good  men  who  fell  at  Ba- 


128  MEMOIR  OF  COX. 

thurst,  when,  looking  for  one  of  them  in  vain, 
he  discovered  another  ahnost  screened  from 
sight  by  the  sprouts  of  the  mangroves,  and 
lifted  the  rank  fohage  from  the  mouldering 
bricks  that  covered  his  body,  and  could  not 
repress  the  reflection  that  "Ae  too  might  find 
a  bed  on  African  soil."  It  matters  but  little. 
Let  but  the  good  be  done  which  he  hoped  for, 
even  from  his  death,  and  it  will  be  monument 
enough.  Let  but  the  sacred  dust  that  lies  in 
Liberian  ground  speak — as  to  his  own  soul  the 
tombs  of  Bathurst,  in  their  cold  solitude,  cried 
out — and  the  work  to  which  he  "  thirsted"  for 
the  winds  to  waft  him,  and  which  alone  he 
could  weep  to  leave  undone,  will  be  finished. 
The  living  will  rush  to  the  help  of  the  dead, 
whose  voices  issue  from  many  a  holy  mound, 
that  needs  no  marble  for  its  lips.  The  gospel 
will  be  preached ;  and  the  truth  of  God  will 
go  forth  conquering  from  sea  to  sea.  Then 
will  the  monument,  which  Cox  himself  would 
have  chosen,  be  reared  to  his  memory,  and  to 
the  memory  of  all  who  went  before  him  and 
shall  follow  him;  for  "Africa  tvill  be  re- 
deemed." 


REMAINS    OF    COX 


REMAINS. 


The  Sketches  of  Western  Africa,  which  we 
insert  first  among  the  following  Remains  of 
Cox,  were  composed  on  the  ground  which 
they  describe,  and  in  the  midst  of  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  difficulty  which  every  reader 
will  infer,  even  from  the  little  that  appears  on 
the  subject  in  the  preceding  memoir.  Still, 
they  will  be  found  intrinsically  interesting,  as 
well  as  characteristic  of  the  writer ;  and  not 
the  less  so  from  the  fact  that  the  region  refer- 
red to,  however  much  the  object  of  attention 
in  our  day,  has,  for  various  reasons,  been  suf- 
fered, by  the  few  intelligent  travellers  who 
have  visited  its  shores,  to  remain  almost  as 
much  in  obscurity  as  though  civilization  and 
Christianity  had  not  only  made  no  inroads  as 
yet  on  the  domains  of  its  barbarism,  but  were 
apparently  destined  to  make  none  for  a  long 
period  to  come.     Such,  however,  is  certainly 


132  REMAINS    OF 

not  the  belief  of  the  religious  world,  at  least. 
Their  interest  in  Africa  has  not  been  extin- 
guished by  the  loss  of  a  few  of  the  champions 
of  the  Cross.  That  sacrifice  has  hallowed  the 
ground,  rather,  and  will  hallow  it,  we  trust, 
more  and  more,  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  put 
their  faith  in  the  promises  of  God,  and  in  the 
prevalence  of  his  gospel. 


SKETCHES  OF  WESTERN  AFRICA. 

rORT  PRAYA. 

Port  Praya  is  situated  at  the  south-east  part 
of  St.  Jago,  in  latitude  15-^  north,  on  a  table-emi- 
nence of  land,  about  seventy  or  a  hundred  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea.  The  town — or  city,  as  it  is 
called — is  surrounded  at  a  distance  by  mountains 
without  number,  thrown  into  every  variety  of  form 
which  a  bursting  volcano  could  give  to  an  uplifting 
mass  of  earth. 

To  me,  the  appearance  of  the  place  is  perfectly 
unique.  There  is  nothing  analogous  to  it  in  the 
United  States ;  and  to  an  American  who  has  never 
been  out  of  them,  all  descriptions  of  it  must  be  more 
or  less  deceptive.  Search  for  the  poorest  litde  vil- 
lage on  our  rivers,  or  in  some  of  our  farthest  Avilder- 
nesses,  nay,  I  might  say,  by  the  side  of  a  good  mill- 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  133 

Stream,  and  in  appearance  it  would  have  by  far  the 
pre-eminence.  When  you  enter  the  village,  there  is 
something  a  little  redeeming  about  it ;  the  sight  of 
what  is  called  the  public  square,  and  a  garden  or 
two,  make  it  quite  tolerable  ;  but  at  best,  to  use  the 
homely  phrase  of  our  supercargo,  "  it  is  a  beggarly 
place."  In  the  harbor,  it  strikes  one  as  nothing  but 
ancient  ruins  crumbling  under  the  weight  of  years. 
In  its  midst,  you  see  it  animated  with  human  beings, 
too  ignorant  to  make  it  better  if  they  would,  and  too 
indolent  to  do  it  if  they  could. 

Still,  as  a  port  for  water  and  refreshment  for  ships, 
it  is  one  of  great  importance,  and  seems  to  have  been 
thrown  from  the  bottom  of  the  great  deep,  as  a  com- 
mon resting  place  for  vessels  from  every  quarter  of 
the  globe,  by  that  Hand  which  so  constantly  and  so 
abundantly  provides  for  the  wants  of  his  creatures. 

The  buildings  are  generally  remarkably  low,  built 
of  a  dark  colored  kind  of  free-stone,  stuccoed  with 
plaster,  and  covered  with  tile,  or  thatched  with  grass. 
The  number  of  inhabitants  is  estimated  at  from  two 
to  three  thousand.  It  has  a  church,  a  custom-house, 
a  jail,  and  a  "  palace,"  as  it  is  called,  though  less 
like  one  than  almost  any  ordinary  house  in  America. 

Religion  here,  as  in  countries  in  general  exclusive- 
ly Catholic,  consists  in  mere  ceremony.  I  saw 
nothing  that  looked  like  the  gospel  in  church  or  out 
of  it,  except  in  a  few  gentlemen  from  America.  The 
Sabbath  has  but  little  respect  paid  to  it,  though  on 
that  day  they  profess  to  worship  God ;  but  morning, 


134  REMAINS    OF 

noon,  and  evening,  the  market  was  open  ;  and  hides, 
horses,  and  clothes,  as  well  as  provisions,  were 
exposed  for  sale.  Form  obliges  them  not  to  forget 
that  there  is  such  a  day,  but  when  it  comes,  instead 
of  the  evangelical  worship  of  a  holy  and  intelligent 
Spirit,  you  see  nothing  but  the  show  of  military 
parade,  and  the  merest  mummeries  to  which  a  ration- 
al being  could  stoop. 

At  nine  o'clock,  the  Sabbath  I  passed  there,  the 
bell  rang,  the  drums  beat,  and  the  fife  blew,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  his  excellency  and  suit  were  escorted 
to  a  neat  little  church  by  a  company  of  soldiers, 
with  a  "  pomp  of  circumstance,"  which,  to  a  dissen- 
ter, was  really  pitiable,  if  not  ridiculous.  They 
were  soon  followed  by  some  eight  or  ten  gentlemen 
and  ladies,  and  perhaps  tw^enty  or  thirty  of  the  poor- 
er classes  of  society,  making  in  all  about  forty-five 
or  fifty.  This  was  all  the  congregation,  out  of  a 
population  of  twenty-five  hundred.  When  comfort- 
ably seated,  at  a  heavy  tap  of  the  drum,  all  fell  on 
their  knees,  while  the  fife  continued  to  play,  and 
the  drum  to  beat.  The  devotions  lasted  from  fifteen 
to  twenty  minutes,  and  consisted  only  of  kneeling 
twice,  making  a  (ew  crosses,  a  little  tattooing  with 
the  drum,  an  air  from  the  fife,  and  about  a  dozen 
words  from  the  priest.  I  am  not  sure  but  that 
while  we  were  kneeling,  the  holy  sacrament  was 
administered  to  his  Excellency  and  suit.  But  such 
an  exhibition  of  Christianity  I  never  saw  before,  and 
hope  never  to  see  again.     Men  of  common  sense 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  135 

cannot  believe  in  such  nonsense  ;  and  viewed  in  the 
most  charitable  light,  I  believe  it  is  only  made  a  step- 
ping-stone to  further  the  designs  of  a  set  of  men 
whose  only  object  is  self-indulgence  and  a  lordly 
pre-eminence  over  their  fellow  beings.  I  do  not 
believe  they  either  know  or  fear  God.  How  much 
they  love  their  fellow  beings,  their  recent  interest  for 
the  dying  will  tell. 

This  is  the  place  where,  a  few  years  since,  "  his 
Holiness  "  ordered  a  public  bonfire  to  be  made  of 
some  Bibles,  which  had  very  kindly  been  sent  out  to 
them  by  the  American  Bible  Society.  What  greater 
proof  can  be  given  to  the  world,  that  Papists  are 
wrong,  and  that  they  know  it  ?  Else  why  fear  they 
the  light  of  the  word  of  God  ? 

Our  stay  was  too  short  on  the  island  to  become 
familiar  with  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people ; 
but  we  were  there  long  enough  to  witness  some  of 
the  sufferings  which  this  group  of  islands  has  recently 
experienced.  They  are  not  yet  at  an  end.  They 
are  still  dying  daily,  and  some  of  the  poor  I  saw 
picked  up  by  the  limbs,  as  a  butcher's  boy  would 
pick  up  a  slaughtered  sheep,  carried  through  the 
street  without  even  a  "  grave-cloth,"  and  buried  as 
you  would  bury  a  horse  or  a  dog. 

Famine  is  sweeping  over  these  little  "  specks  on 
the  ocean,"  with  far  more  fearfulness  than  has  the 
cholera  in  America.  Not  less  than  thirty-three 
thousand,  out  of  a  population  of  one  hundred  thou- 
sand, have  perished  within  the  last  twelve  months  ; 


136  REMAINS    OF 

and  the  prospect  of  any  relief  from  the  produce  of 
their  own  country  is  still  very  dubious.  A  vessel 
from  Portland,  and  another  from  Philadelphia,  we 
heard  had  just  arrived,  laden  entirely  with  provisions 
for  the  dying.  They  will  be  as  life  to  the  dead. 
What  we  had  was  but  little  among  thousands,  but 
it  will  no  doubt  save  the  lives  of  some. 

The  scenes  of  wretchedness,  as  pictured  by  those 
who  had  witnessed  it  at  Antonio,  Bravo,  and  Togo, 
are  beyond  description.  At  St.  Jago  there  was  but 
little  of  it,  comparatively,  except  from  those  who 
flocked  there  for  relief  from  the  other  islands. 
Those  of  them  who  still  lived  were  grouped  together 
in  a  large  yard,  under  the  direction  of  the  police,  or 
the  American  consul,  and  fed  from  provisions  which 
our  country  has  so  kindly  sent  to  them.  The 
scene  was  an  affecting  one.  Here  and  there  I  was 
pointed  to  little  orphan  children,  who  had  neither 
father,  mother,  brother,  nor  sister  left.  Some  of 
them  were  sitting  on  the  ground,  with  a  little  gar- 
ment thrown  over  them  to  screen  them  from  the 
harmattan  winds — which  were  then  blowing  very 
coldly — so  far  gone  as  to  be  entirely  insensible  of 
what  was  passing  around  them,  and  as  if  patiently 
waiting  for  death  to  relieve  them  from  their  suffer- 
ings. Others  were  walking  as  mere  skeletons  on 
earth,  crying  with  piteous  moans  for  "  bread,"  but 
whose  stomachs,  when  supplied,  were  grown  too 
weak  to  derive  any  nourishment  from  it.  Mothers, 
with  nothing  but  skin  and  bones  themselves,  were 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  137 

bowing  and  courtesy ing  for  a  copper  to  buy  some- 
thing for  their  children,  with  an  importunity  that 
might  move  a  stone.  Such  a  sight  I  had  never 
before  witnessed,  and  it  has  left  an  impression  which 
cannot  be  forgotten.  But  God  is  just  and  good. 
Sin,  sin,  hath  done  it  all.  Mercy  has  cried  to 
heaven  for  the  rod  of  correction,  and  mercy  and  love, 
though  unseen  to  us,  are  directing  and  measuring 
its  stripes.  The  misery  of  these  poor  little  children 
is  only  preparatory  for  a  bliss  where  death  and  want 
are  unknown,  or  designed  impressively  to  teach 
them,  and  a  guilty  world,  that  this  is  not  the  home 
of  man. 

The  weather  was  not  so  intensely  hot  while  we 
were  on  the  island  as  has  generally  been  represented. 
Most  of  the  time  it  was  pleasantly  cool ;  sometimes 
too  much  so  for  comfort ;  and  no  day,  I  believe,  was 
the  thermometer  above  summer  heat  at  noon. 

BATHURST. 

Bathurst  is  a  beautiful  little  village  on  the  south  side 
of  the  river  Gambia,  about  ten  miles  from  its  mouth, 
and  in  between  13  and  14°  north  latitude.  It  is 
situated  on  a  little  island  called  the  St.  Mary's,  which 
is  separated  from  the  main  land  only  by  a  very  nar- 
row creek.  The  soil  is  evidently  alluvial ;  the  island 
rather  barren,  from  four  to  five  miles  in  length,  and 
perhaps  two  in  breadth.  The  town  receives  its 
name,  I  believe,  from  an  English  lord,  who  possibly 


138  REMAINS    OF 

rendered  it  some  assistance  in  the  early  history  of 
the  place. 

Like  English  settlements  in  general,  it  is  well  for- 
tified with  a  fort  on  the  island,  and  protected  by 
another  about  three  miles  below,  which  might  easily 
be  made  strong  enough  to  command  the  whole 
mouth  of  the  river.  The  appearance  of  the  village 
is  almost  enchanting  to  one  who  has  seen  little  else 
than  a  wide  waste  of  waters  for  more  than  two 
months.  The  European  houses,  though  few,  are 
well  built,  handsomely  finished  and  furnished,  and 
some  of  them  tastefully  ornamented  in  front  with  a 
row  of  trees.  The  huts  of  the  natives  are  apparent- 
ly new,  and  neatly  and  conveniently  constructed, 
though  built  of  bamboo. 

The  population  is  variously  estimated,  but  gen- 
erally at  a  little  more  than  two  thousand,  chiefly 
Jaloofs,"^  and  "  liberated  Africans."  Now  and  then 
you  meet  with  a  Mandingo — rarely  with  a  Moor. 
These,  with  eighteen  or  twenty  Europeans  and  two 
white  ladies,  make  up  what  I  suppose  is  the  prettiest 
little  village  on  the  whole  coast  of  Africa. 

It  is  a  place  of  considerable  trade,  and  must  ulti- 
mately become  one  of  great  commercial  interest. 
Vessels  are  constantly  entering  and  clearing  from 
England,  France,  and  America.  They  supply  not 
only  the  settlement  itself,  but,  through  the  merchants, 
the  whole  valley  of  the  Gambia,   with  European 

*  Sometimes  written  Walloors,  Jalofa,  or  JoUoofs  ;  but  properly,  Jol-ufs, 
giving  the  v  its  second  sound. 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  139 

goods,  and  receive  in  return,  hides,  ivory,  gold,  bees' 
wax,  and  oil,  which  are  brought  from  the  interior  by 
the  natives,  and  some  of  the  merchants  who  have 
occasionally  ascended  the  river. 

Religion. — The  cause  of  the  blessed  Redeemer 
here  is  yet  in  its  infancy  ;  but  a  good  foundation,  I 
trust,  is  laying.  The  confidence  of  the  natives  in  its 
excellency  is  every  day  increasing,  and  Christianity 
evidently  holds  an  ascendency  in  the  place,  that  will 
justify  the  hope  of  great  ultimate  success.  No 
churches  have  yet  been  built,  but  the  town  has  for 
several  years  past  engaged  the  constant  labors  of  a 
Wesleyan  Methodist  missionary,  and  the  chaplain 
of  the  island  from  the  English  National  Church.  The 
lower  part  of  the  mission-house,  for  the  present,  is 
occupied  as  a  church  and  as  a  school  room  :  the  chap- 
lain officiates  in  the  court-house.  The  number  of 
communicants  in  the  English  Church  I  did  not  learn, 
but  from  frequent  conversations  with  the  chaplain, 
I  am  under  an  impression  that,  though  very  small, 
it  is  not  less  prosperous  than  usual. 

The  Wesleyan  Mission  is  doing  well.  The  sta- 
tion is  now  in  charge  of  the  Rev.  William  Mois- 
ter,  an  amiable  and  devoted  servant  of  Christ.  He 
has  endured  his  two  years'  toil  with  far  better  health 
than  he  expected,  and  is  now  daily  looking  for  one 
to  supply  his  place,  when  he  will  return  to  his 
friends.  Several  have  been  added  to  his  charge  the 
last  year,  and  he  now  has  about  eighty  native  com- 
municants.    Five  I  believe  have  preceded  him  in 


140  REMAINS    OF 

this  labor  of  love,  two  of  whom  perished  in  their 
toils.  The  tomb  of  one  was  pointed  out  to  me.  It 
was  mouldering  in  ruin  amid  the  sprouts  of  man- 
groves, which  almost  screen  it  from  human  observa- 
tion. I  could  not  repress  the  thought,  as  I  lifted  the 
green  foliage  from  the  bricks  that  covered  his 
remains,  that  I  too  might  find  a  bed  in  African  soil. 
The  spot  of  the  other  could  not  be  found.  But 
though  dead,  and  the  place  where  one  of  the  good 
men  lay  is  lost  in  the  recollection  of  those  for  whom 
he  nobly  toiled,  "  they  still  speak,"  and  their  works 
follow  them.  Their  labor  has  not  been  in  vain,  and 
their  names  at  least  are  still  as  "  ointment  poured 
forth  "  among  those  who  are  yet  their  living  epistles, 
known  and  read  of  all  men. 

At  M'Carthy's  Island,  three  hundred  miles  up  the 
Gambia,  this  mission  has  another  station,  now  under 
the  charge  of  a  native  preacher,  who  promises  great 
usefulness  to  the  church.  As  yet,  only  fifteen  have 
joined  themselves  in  communion  with  him,  but  it  is 
expected  to  exert,  and  indeed  it  must  of  necessity, 
with  the  blessing  of  God,  soon  exert  a  mighty  influ- 
ence on  the  wildernesses  of  Africa.  Light  and  truth, 
when  thrown  from  such  a  beacon,  must  be  seen,  and 
their  influence  must  be  felt. 

The  School  at  Bathurst  far  exceeded  my  expec- 
tations. Under  the  fostering  care  of  both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Moister,  who  have  taken  a  deep  interest  in 
instructing  the  scholars,  it  refutes  the  pitiful  slander, 
that  the  black  man,  under  similar  circumstances,  is 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  141 

inferior  in  intellect  to  the  white.  Many  of  them 
read  with  propriety  and  ease  the  English  and  Jaloof, 
and  speak  the  one  almost  as  well  as  the  other. 
There  are  in  the  school  fifty  boys  and  twenty  girls : 
most  of  them  are  from  four  to  fifteen ;  one  or  two 
were  perhaps  eighteen  or  twenty.  They  write  well, 
read  well,  and  commit  admirably.  I  was  forcibly 
struck,  on  a  visit  to  the  school,  with  the  improvement 
of  one  little  fellow  about  nine  or  ten  years  of  age  ; 
he  repeated  his  whole  catechism,  both  in  English  and 
Jaloof,  without  scarcely  a  word  of  prompting.  After 
this  he  repeated  with  the  same  fluency  and  accuracy  a 
long  chapter  from  the  New  Testament.  He  speaks 
three  languages  with  great  readiness,  and  on  all 
occasions  seems  as  a  little  interpreter  in  the  purchase 
of  domestic  articles  for  the  family,  or  in  private  con- 
versations with  the  Mandingoes  and  Jaloofs  upon  the 
subject  of  religion.  I  might  say  much  of  his  piety; 
though  so  young,  he  evidently  knows  the  power  of 
the  gospel.  I  cannot  but  think,  from  the  spirit  he 
breathes,  and  the  mental  capacity  which  he  exhibits, 
that  Providence  is  preparing  him  for  the  sacred  ser- 
vices of  the  sanctuary.  He  frequently  prays  with 
his  little  associates,  and  speaks  in  class  meeting  more 
like  a  man  than  a  young  boy.  And  these  are  the 
natives  who  have  no  intellect — who  have  been  class- 
ed with  the  brutes  of  the  field,  and  treated  in  a 
manner  perfectly  corresponding  with  such  exalted 
sentiments ! 


142  REMAINS    OF 

But  our  missionary  has  not  confined  his  labors  to 
children  only.  Every  Sabbath  afternoon  he  devotes 
an  hour  to  the  instruction  of  a  large  class  of  adults. 
These  are  laboring  men ;  and  such  is  their  anxiety 
to  learn,  that  for  the  want  of  other  opportunities, 
they  assemble  between  the  intervals  of  the  Sunday 
service  to  learn  the  Book  of  God.  It  was  really 
afTecting  to  see  them.  Each  one  had  his  Bible,  and, 
with  finger  pointing  to  every  word,  they  would  wait 
with  the  deepest  interest  until  their  turn  came,  then 
read  as  if  each  letter  were  a  syllable,  and  each  syl- 
lable a  word  written  by  the  immediate  finger  of  the 
great  I  am.  Oh,  had  these  poor  creatures  our  advan- 
tages, would  they  not  shame  us  in  the  improvement 
they  would  make  of  them  ?  Once  I  had  the  plea- 
sure of  preaching  a  few  minutes  to  them  through 
an  interpreter.  Seldom  have  I  spoken  Avith  more 
pleasure — never  with  feelings  so  peculiar.  All 
seemed  deeply  serious,  and  at  the  close  of  the  ser- 
vices, one  wept  aloud. 

Our  Wesleyan  brethren  have  shown  their  usual 
wisdom  in  selecting  this  as  a  point  of  moral  efTort 
for  western  Africa.  I  rejoice  that  so  powerful  a 
lever  is  found  here.  The  Gambia  is  a  noble  river, 
and  must  ultimately  become  the  Mississippi  of  Africa. 
It  is  about  eleven  miles  wide  at  its  mouth,  and  about 
four  opposite  Bathurst.  How  far  it  extends  into  the 
interior  is  yet  unknown.  My  map  sets  it  down  at 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  but  some  assured  me 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  143 

from  actual  observation,  that  it  is  much  longer.  One 
gentleman,  with  whom  I  conversed,  stated  that  he 
had  himself  ascended  it  from  twelve  to  fifteen 
hundred  miles.  It  is  navigable  three  hundred  miles 
for  ships  of  almost  any  size  ;  and  I  saw  a  vessel  with 
eight  feet  draught  of  water,  which  had  ascended  it 
between  seven  and  eight  hundred. 

What  renders  this  river  of  still  greater  importance 
for  moral  effort  is,  that  throughout  its  vast  valley 
the  Mandingo  language  is  spoken ; — an  advantage 
which  can  seldom  be  found,  where  languages  are 
multiplied  like  the  tongues  of  a  Mohammedan  para- 
dise. Here  too  may  be  found  every  comfort  of  man. 
It  has  cattle  in  great  abundance,  horses,  sheep, 
swine,  rice,  cotton,  corn,  and  fowl,  and  fruit  of  almost 
every  description,  and  in  great  profusion.  It  has 
too  its  mines  of  pure  gold,  as  well  as  soil  of  the  best 
quality;  and  the  farther  you  go  into  the  interior,  report 
says,  the  healthier  is  the  climate  and  the  more  intel- 
ligent the  people.  Indeed  the  Mandingoes,  wherever 
found,  are  noted  for  their  shrewdness,  their  strong 
propensity  to  traffic,  and  their  intelligence.  In 
appearance,  compared  with  others,  they  are  men  of 
lofty  bearing,  some  of  high  intellectual  foreheads,  a 
quick,  sagacious  eye,  and  national  attachments  which 
nothing  can  overcome.  They  are  tall  and  well 
made,  and  remind  me  more  of  an  American  Indian 
than  anything  I  have  seen  in  the  African  character. 
I  doubt,  however,  if,  as  a  general  thing,  they  have 
the  Indian's  strength  of  intellect. 


144  REMAINS   OF 

The  Natives  of  Bathurst. — The  natives  settled 
at  Bathurst  still  retain  many  of  their  ancient  man- 
ners and  customs,  though  they  have  mingled  much 
with  the  Europeans.  The  breasts  and  arras  of 
females  of  the  first  rank,  except  when  they  have 
intermarried  with  the  whites,  are  generally  exposed, 
and  the  pang  or  skirt,  which  is  drawn  around  the 
waist,  falls  but  a  little  below  the  knee.  A  scarf, 
called  also  a  pang,  of  the  same  size  and  form  with 
the  other,  is  sometimes  thrown  over  one  shoulder, 
but  with  no  apparent  motives  whatever,  or  any  deli- 
cacy of  feeling.  Beneath  the  lower  pang,  mothers 
have  another  piece  of  cloth  in  which  they  carry  their 
little  ones,  precisely  in  the  style  of  an  American 
squaw.  They  have  beads  in  abundance  round  the 
neck,  the  wrist,  the  ancles  and  waist ;  and  with  all 
these  I  have  seen  a  gold  necklace,  worth  from 
twenty  to  thirty  dollars  in  its  weight  of  gold. 
These,  with  a  cap  or  hat  on  the  head,  wooden  or 
leather  sandals  for  the  feet,  rings  in  the  ears,  and 
perhaps  on  the  fingers,  constitute  the  dress  of  an 
African  lady.  The  wealthier  ones  frequently  have 
manillas,  made  of  large  bars  of  pure  gold  or  silver, 
round  the  waist.  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  have  seen 
from  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars' 
worth  of  pure  native  gold  on  many  of  them.  The 
ear  ring,  though  of  gold,  is  so  enormously  heavy, 
that  an  African  ear  is  obliged  to  have  it  supported 
by  a  string  attached  to  the  hair. 


MELVILLE  B,  COX.  145 

Nearly  all  that  are  not  christians,  wear  charms 
or  gree-grees,*  as  they  are  called.  These  are  of 
various  forms,  sometimes  made  very  beautifully  of 
leather,  at  others  of  a  plain  piece  of  cloth.  Their 
virtue  is  found  in  a  small  scrap  of  paper,  with  a  few 
Arabic  sentences  written  on  it  by  a  Mohammedan 
priest,  for  which  he  charges  from  five  to  ten  dollars. 
The  amount  of  the  inscription  is — "  If  this  be  worn, 
the  bullet  shall  not  harm  thee,"  or  "  the  pestilence 
shall  not  come  nigh  thy  dwelling."  I  suppose  that 
the  charm  is  always  suited  to  the  various  fears  and 
dangers  of  those  who  purchase  them. 

Inferiority  of  Females. — As  in  all  barbarous 
countries,  the  female  here  is  always  considered 
much  inferior  to  the  male.  I  think,  however,  that 
there  is  less  difference  than  among  the  American 
Indians,  though  this  difference  arises,  probably,  more 
from  the  natural  indolence  and  indulgence  of  the 
African  character,  than  from  any  proper  estimate  of 
female  worth.  One  trait  in  the  Indian  character  is 
self-denial  and  self-severity.  There  is  no  passion 
but  that  he  has  learned  to  conceal — no  propensity 
but  at  his  pleasure  is  controlled.  The  African  is 
the  very  antipodes  of  this.     He  loves  pleasure,  but 

*  "  Gree-gree,  pronounced  greg-o-ry,  is  a  word  of  European  origin,  though 
adopted  by  the  natives.  The  Soosoos  call  them  seb'bay.  Some  derive 
the  word  fetish  from  the  Portuguese  fides,  from  feiticeira,  a  witch,  or  from 
feiticana,  witchcraft." — Fn  its  use  among  the  natives  it  has  great  latitude 
of  meaning.  Anything  that  is  supposed  by  them  to  possess  a  supeihuman 
power,  if  either  good  or  evil,  is  called  fetish.  Thus  the  tiger,  the  snake, 
Uie  alligator,  tlie  lizard,  and  the  hyena,  are  the  fe,tishes  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  coast. 

10 


146  REMAINS    OF 

has  not  energy  enough  to  make  many  sacrifices  to 
obtain  it.  His  only  object  seems  to  be  present  enjoy- 
ments ;  at  whose  expense  they  are  had,  is  of  little 
consequence,  so  that  he  is  not  tasked  to  gain  them. 
But  to  return.  The  following  little  circumstance 
struck  me  as  illustrating  very  forcibly  how  much  the 
"  polished  lady  "  is  indebted  to  the  gospel  of  Christ 
for  the  stand  she  holds  in  society,  while  perhaps  she 
is  trampling  his  precious  blood  beneath  her  feet. 
On  a  visit  to  one  of  their  most  genteel  huts,  I 
i/egged  leave  to  look  into  the  bed-room.  It  was  well 
furnished,  though  small ;  had  a  high  posted  single 
bedstead,  curtained  in  European  style.  Aware  that 
the  person  of  the  house  had  a  wife  and  family,  I 
asked  if  both  slept  in  so  narrow  a  bed  ?  "  No,  one 
sleep  dare."  Your  wife  not  sleep  with  you?  said  I. 
"  No  ;  she  have  one  baby,  she  no  sleep  wid  me." 
On  further  inquiry,  I  learned  that  the  poor  mother 
and  her  little  one  lodged  on  a  mat  on  the  floor, 
while  her  lord  enjoyed  the  comfort  of  a  good  bed- 
stead. 

The  native  hut  is  very  simple,  but  quite  com- 
fortable. I  know  of  nothing  that  looks  so  much 
like  those  at  Bathurst,  at  a  distance,  as  the  New 
England  hay-stacks.  They  are  made  of  split  cane, 
woven  or  "  wattled  "  as  you  would  weave  a  basket. 
The  body  of  the  house  is  generally  circular,  though 
sometimes  an  oblong  square,  from  five  to  eight 
feet  high,  and  from  ten  to  twenty  or  twenty-five  in 
diameter.     The  roof  is  conical,  built  also  of  cane  or 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  147 

small  poles,  and  thatched  with  long  grass  or  the 
leaves  of  the  bamboo.  Many  of  them  are  well 
plastered  with  lime  inside,  and  occasionally  outside, 
but  either  affords  a  shelter  that  would  be  very 
desirable  to  almost  any  one  when  wet  or  weary. 
The  country  villages,  I  presume,  of  course,  are  much 
inferior  to  that  of  Bathurst. 

Labor-saving  machines  are  here  unknown.  There 
is  no  ploughing  or  drawing  with  horses,  or  turning 
with  water  or  steam.  Barrels,  stone  for  building — in 
a  word,  everything  portable — are  carried  on  the  head 
or  shoulders.  What  cannot  be  raised,  is  rolled  or 
dragged — but  all  done  by  manual  labor  ;  and  yet 
they  have  fine  spirited  horses,  and  bullocks  in  great 
abundance.  I  saw  in  one  herd  not  less  than  a 
hundred  and  fifty,  or  two  hundred. 

Arts. — I  saw  a  few,  but  fine  specimens  of  native 
art  at  Bathurst,  such  as  I  had  never  dreamed  of 
seeing  with  my  own  eye  in  Africa.  The  best  was  in 
an  ear-ring,  woven  throughout  with  gold  wire.  The 
gold  is  first  beaten,  then  drawn  through  small  holes, 
(perhaps  drilled  through  an  old  iron  hoop,)  until  it  is 
drawn  down  to  the  size  wished.  The  ring,  or  drop, 
as  the  American  ladies  would  call  it,  is  woven  round 
a  wooden  mould,  made  to  any  pattern  desired,  and 
when  finished,  the  mould  is  burned  to  ashes  within 
the  ring.  The  wire  of  which  it  was  wrought,  was 
about  the  size  of  fine  cotton  thread.  Its  beauty, 
when  burnished,  is  equal  to  anything  of  the  kind 
in  an  European  jeweller's  shop.     The  bellows  with 


148  REMAINS    OF 

which  this  smith  of  Africa  blew  his  fire,  was  made 
of  a  couple  of  goat  skins,  sewed  up  as  you  would 
sew  a  leathern  bag,  attached  to  two  short  pieces  of 
an  old  gun-barrel  as  nozzles  for  the  bellows,  with 
small  apertures  at  the  other  end  of  the  skins  in 
place  of  valves.  The  skins  were  then  raised  up 
and  pressed  down,  alternatel}-,  by  the  hands  of  a 
little  boy.  His  forge,  anvil  and  bellows,  were  all  on 
the  ground,  and  might  all,  with  every  tool  he  had, 
have  been  put  into  a  half-bushel  measure. 

They  also  spin  and  weave  ;  but  destitute  as  they 
are  of  proper  wheels  and  looms,  it  is  done  with 
great  labor ;  though  when  done,  their  cloth  is  much 
more  durable  than  ours.  A  beautiful  specimen  of  it 
was  shown  me  from  Sego,  on  the  far-famed  Niger, 
which,  but  for  the  best  of  evidence,  I  could  not  have 
believed  ever  came  from  the  interior  of  Africa.  I 
have  a  sword,  made  in  the  kingdom  of  Bondoo,  that 
would  do  credit  to  a  regular  artist.  I  have  also  the 
head-stall  of  a  war-bridle,  that  exhibits  considerable 
taste  as  well  as  ingenuity  ;  the  bit  is  made  o[  7iative 
iron.  They  tan  leather  very  handsomely,  and  I  am 
told  do  it  in  a  few  hours.  Baskets,  mats,  reticules, 
and  money-purses,  are  made  in  a  great  variety  of 
forms,  and  some  of  them  very  handsomely,  from  the 
cane,  and  shreds  of  the  bamboo. 

Literature. — The  literature  of  course  is  very 
limited.  I  have  seen  nothing  myself  except  Alco- 
rans,  gree-grees,  and  a  few  Mohammedan  prayers, 
written  in  Arabic  on  loose  sheets  of  paper,  but  care- 


MELVILLE    B.    COX.  149 

fully  enveloped  in  the  form  of  a  book,  some  larger 
and  some  smaller,  and  encased  in  a  handsome 
leather  covering.  Some  of  the  priests  can  write 
modern  Arabic  with  great  facility,  and  now  and  then 
you  meet  with  those  who  can  read  an  Arabic  Bible 
or  Testament.  I  was  forcibly  struck  with  the  readi- 
ness with  which  one  wrote  for  me  the  Lord's  prayer, 
with  Arabic  characters,  but  in  Jaloof  orthography. 
There  are  those,  I  am  told,  in  the  interior,  who  form 
a  regular  code  of  laws  written  in  Arabic.  Of  this  I 
have  some  doubt,  except  so  far  as  it  may  have  refer- 
ence to  the  Alcoran,  or  the  tradition  of  the  Mussul- 
man priests.  These  have  almost  unlimited  control. 
I  have  had  a  few  interesting  conversations  with 
some  of  them  upon  the  claims  of  Mohammed  to  the 
character  of  a  prophet.  One  in  particular,  with 
whom  I  had  rather  a  long  argument,  seemed  deeply 
interested  in  hearing  anything  about  the  gospel. 
His  faith  in  the  Alcoran  had  evidently  been  shaken. 
Before  he  left  me,  he  confessed  that  he  had  found 
Mohammed  was  no  prophet,  and  finally  begged  me 
to  tell  him  how  or  ivhat  he  must  do  to  obtain  the 
blessing  of  God.  I  pointed  him  to  Christ,  bid  him 
pray  to  Christ,  and  assured  him  that  he  would  hear 
him — would  talk  "  with  him" — would  quiet  all  his 
fears,  and  fill  his  heart  with  peace.  "  Will  he  hear," 
said  he  anxiously,  "  if  I  pray  to  him  in  Jaloof?  " 
"Yes — Arabic,  Jaloof,  Mandingo,  and  English  are  the 
same  to  him."  With  this  we  parted,  and  he  really 
seemed  to  tread  more  lightly  on  the  earth — to  walk 
as  if  he  had  heard   "  glad  tidings  of  great  joy." 


150  REMAINS    OF 

Climate. — The  weather  here  is  much  more  tem- 
perate than  I  had  expected.  I  have  found  no 
"  frying  of  fish  on  the  quarter-deck,  nor  roasting  of 
eggs  in  the  sand."  Though  in  the  "  dry  season," 
we  have  occasionally  a  light  shower  of  rain,  the  sky 
has  been  more  or  less  hazy,  and  we  have  generally 
had  either  a  land  or  sea  breeze,  that  has  made  even 
the  noon-day  heat  comfortable.  Indeed  I  have  felt 
oppressed  with  the  heat  but  one  day  since  we  left 
America,  and  that  was  on  the  ocean.  I  still  wear 
a  winter's  dress,  except  occasionally  a  thin  pair  of 
pantaloons  and  a  roundabout.  The  thermometer 
has  generally  ranged  from  68  to  78°,  seldom  above 
summer  heat.  Once,  and  once  only,  it  rose  to  84°  at 
noon.  I  of  course  cannot  judge  as  those  who  have 
had  several  years'  residence  here,  but  with  all  the 
light  which  I  have  been  able  to  gain,  I  should  sooner 
by  far  hope  for  health  at  Balhurst  than  at  New  Or- 
leans. In  March  it  will  no  doubt  be  warmer ; — in 
the  rainy  season  fevers  will  probably  be  frequent; 
but  I  am  confident  that  a  civilized  population,  and  a 
well  cultivated  and  drained  soil,  will  make  an  Afri- 
can climate  a  healthy  one. 

It  is  now  about  half  a  century  since  colonization 
in  Africa,  with  reference  to  civilization,  was  first 
contemplated  in  England.  Shortly  after,  a  society 
was  formed  among  the  Quakers,"*  as  they  were  then 
called,  for  the  abolition  of  the  slave  trade ;  and  the 
great  and  good  Mr.    Wilberforce   was  the  first,  I 

*  Goldsmith's  History  of  England,  p.  536. 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  151 

believe,  who  introduced  the  subject  into  the  British 
Parliament.     Public  sympathy  thus  enlisted,  neither 
plans  nor  means  were   long  wanted  for  its   active 
exercise.     Sierra   Leone  was  fixed  upon  as  a  point 
well   suited   to  the  objects   in  view,   and  some  were 
readily  collected  for  the  purpose ;  but,  like  too  many 
of  the  foreign  British  settlements,  this,  the  most  im- 
portant English  colony  in  Africa,  was  first  settled  by 
materials  fitted  only  for  a  poor-house  or  penitentiary. 
Some  of  the  slaves,  who,   during  our  revolution 
served  under   the  British   standard,   were,   after  the 
peace  of  1783,   sent  to  Nova  Scotia.     Not  contented 
with  their  situation  there,  many  of  them  repaired  to 
London,   where,   it  is  said,  they  "  became  subject  to 
every  misery,  and  familiar  with  every  vice."  A  com- 
mittee was  soon  formed   for  their  relief,   in  which 
Mr.  Granville  Sharpe  took  a  distinguished  part ;  and 
in  1787,  about  four  hundred  blacks  and  sixty  whites 
were  embarked  for  Sierra  Leone.     The  whhes  were 
chiefly  woman,   of  the  most  abandoned  character. — 
This  hopeful  colony  of  American  refugee  slaves  and 
London  prostitutes,   was  the  first  that  were  sent  out 
by  English  philanthropy  to   enlighten  and  civilize 
Africa !     But  God  seeth  not  as  man  seeth.    In  kind- 
ness to  the  name   of  Christianity,   soon    after   their 
arrival,  death  commenced  his  ravages  among  them, 
and  in  a  few  months  nearly  half  of  the  whole  had 
either  died  or  made  their  escape   from  the   colony. 
Desertions  continued,  and  in  less  than  a  year,  the 


152  REMAINS    OF 

whole  were  dispersed,  and  the  tov\n  burned  by  an 
African  chief. 

In  1791,  an  association  was  formed  by  some  of 
the  friends  of  Africa,  called  the  "  St.  George's  Bay 
Company."  *  By  the  efforts  of  this  society,  some  of 
the  dispersed  colonists  were  collected  again,  and 
about  twelve  hundred  more  free  negroes  were  trans- 
ported from  Nova  Scotia.  In  1794,  the  town  was 
again  destroyed  by  a  French  squadron  ;  and  in  1808, 
disappointed  and  discouraged,  the  company  transfer- 
red the  whole  establishment  to  the  British  govern- 
ment. Under  the  banner  of  Zion  and  the  Cross, 
the  colony  has  found  security  from  enemies  within 
and  without,  and  since  its  transfer,  till  wiUiin  the 
last  j'^ear  or  two,  lias  been  rapidly  increasing  in 
its  commercial  interests  and  in  the  number  of  its 
inhabitants.  The  population  now  amounts  to  thirty 
thousand,  about  one  hundred  of  whom  are  whites. 
Perhaps  such  a  motley  mixture  were  never  before 
collected  on  the  same  amount  of  territory.  It  is 
more  than  Africa  in  miniature.  They  are  almost 
literally  of  "  all  nations,  tongues,  and  people  ;"  En- 
glish, Scotch,  American,  Irish,  West  Indian ;  and  to 
these  must  be  added  those  from  an  endless  list  of 
tribes  from  the  interior  of  Africa ;  and  their  com- 
plexions have  all  the  variety  of  shades  from  a  beau- 
tiful white  to  an  African  jet.  But  to  speak  without 
a  hyperbole,  there  are  between  thirty  and  forty 
of    the   African  languages   spoken   in   the  colony. 

*  Misaionary  Gazetteer. 


MELVILLE   B.  COX,  153 

The  burden  of  the  whole  are  "  liberated  Africans," 
— those  whom  the  humanity  of  England  has  wrested 
from  that  curse  of  the  human  species,  the  slave 
stealer.  It  is  a  proud  thought  to  the  African,  that, 
come  from  where  he  may,  whether  from  Christian, 
Pagan,  or  Mohammedan  servitude,  or  from  the 
floating  hell  that  is  unworthy  of  the  name  of  either, 
the  moment  he  treads  on  the  soil  of  Sierra  Leone, 
that  moment  he  h  free.  Oh,  it  must  be  a  proud 
thought  too,  to  the  monarch  who  has  bequeathed 
this  high  privilege,  however  humble  and  degraded 
tlie  objects  of  his  mercy.  England  has  no  slaves  ! 
May  the  same  soon  be  said  of  all  the  colonies  where 
her  flag  waves  its  authority. 

The  government  of  Sierra  Leone  extends  its 
jurisdiction  over  all  the  British  settlements  ■  on  the 
western  coast  of  Africa,  between  20°  north  and  20° 
south ;  but  Sierra  Leone  proper,  is  only  SO  or  90 
miles  in  its  greatest  length,  and  about  40  or  50 
wide.  Over  this  territory  there  are  scattered  some 
ten  or  a  dozen  villages,  all  of  which  are  more  or 
less  under  christian  tuition,  and  the  civil  juris- 
prudence of  the  colony. 

FREE  TOWN. 

The  principal  place  in  the  colony  is  in  lat.  8° 
30'  north,  on  the  south  bank  of  the  river  Sierra 
Leone,  and  about  six  miles  from  the  western 
extremity  of  the  cape.      It  is  built  at  the  foot  of 


154  REMAINS   OF 

a  range  of  mountains,  which,  in  nearly  the  form 
of  a  semi-circle,  shelters  the  whole  village,  and 
which,  when  the  breeze  happens  to  be  southerly,  in 
very  hot  weather,  must  render  the  heat  of  a  noon- 
day sun  almost  insupportable.  The  town  opens 
handsomely  as  you  approach  it  up  the  river,  and 
enlivened  as  it  was  the  evening  of  our  arrival  by  the 
sound  of  a  keyed  bugle  and  an  occasional  gun  from 
the  fort,  we  felt  ouselves  nearer  something  more  like 
home  than  anything  we  had  seen  since  we  left 
America.  The  morning  light  made  the  scenery  still 
more  beautiful.  Everything  on  which  he  eye 
could  rest  was  rich  with  luxuriance  ;  the  hills  and 
ravines  were  covered  with  verdure,  the  forest  was 
green  with  foliage,  trees  were  loaded  with  fruit, 
and  the  town  seemed  alive  with  human  beings — 
such  as  might  have  been  naturally  expected — neither 
wholly  civilized,  nor  entirely  barbarous.  Mixed,  as 
the  population  now  is,  and  receiving,  as  it  constantly 
does,  new  accessions  from  the  captured  slave  ship,  it 
must  be  a  long  while  before  European  manners  and 
customs  will  be  wholly  adopted  by  the  natives.  In- 
stead, however,  of  expressing  surprise  at  seeing  a 
part  of  the  population  half  naked,  and  some  of  the 
little  boys  and  girls  entirely  so,  perhaps  we  ought 
rather  to  thank  God  and  rejoice  for  the  hundreds, 
who,  with  a  change  of  residence,  have  left  their 
paganism  and  rudeness  in  "  the  bush,"  and  are 
becoming  pious  christians  and  good  citizens.  Quite 
a  proportion  of  the  native  population  have  already 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  155 

adopted  the  European  dress,  and  the  congregations, 
in  general,  appear  quite  christian  in  their  Sunday 
costume,  if  we  except  the  strange  custom  which 
almost  all  the  ladies  have  adopted,  in  substituting 
the  hat  for  the  bonnet. 

The  town  is  rather  handsomely  laid  out, — most  of 
its  streets  running  at  right  angles,  and,  with  its  bar- 
racks, its  ordnance,  churches  and  other  public  build- 
ings, has  an  air  of  finish  about  it  that  really  glad- 
dens the  heart  in  this  vast  wilderness.  Most  of  the 
public  buildings  are  of  a  coarse  kind  of  free-stone  ; 
perhaps  half  of  the  private  dwellings  are  of  the 
same,  or  of  wood,  the  others  of  "  wattle  " — a  kind  of 
coarse  basket  stuff — with  grass  or  bamboo-leaved 
roofs. 

The  number  of  the  inhabitants  I  did  not  learn,  but 
suppose,  including  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  there  are 
some  six  or  eight  thousand,  about  eighty  of  whom 
are  whites. 

Morals  of  the  Place. — The  morals  of  Free 
Town  are  fearfully, /e(zr/?<ZZ7/ bad.  As  in  colonies 
too  generally,  where  the  restraints  of  home,  of 
friends,  of  those  we  love  and  those  Ave  fear,  are 
broken  off,  licentiousness  prevails  to  a  most  lament- 
able degree.  Judging  from  much  that  occurs,  one 
might  suppose  the  seventh  commandment  had  never 
been  heard  of;  or  if  heard  of,  that  the  eternity  and 
weight  of  wrath  connected  with  its  disobedience  had 
been  entirely  forgotten.  The  marriage  tie  is  not 
unfrequently  disregarded ;    and  where  this  solemn 


166  '  REMAINS   OF 

obligation  has  never  been  entered  into,  there  appears 

to  be  neither  shame  nor  restraint.  The  abomination 
is  not  committed  under  the  cover  of  midnight ;  nor  am 
I  speaking  of  the  natives  whose  early  habits  might 
plead  some  apology  for  them  ; — it  is  done  at  noon-day, 
and,  to  use  a  figure,  the  throne  as  well  as  the  foot- 
stool, has  participated  in  the  evil.  And  the  evil,  I 
am  told,  is  increasing.  Sanctioned  as  it  is,  by  those 
who  take  the  lead  in  society,  and  who  ought  to  form 
the  morals  of  the  colony,  avarice  has  been  added  to 
lust,  and  those  who  otherwise  might  have  been 
virtuous,  have  "  sold  themselves  "  to  work  wicked- 
ness. Already  mothers  begin  to  barter  their  daugh- 
ters, as  soon  as  they  are  fourteen  or  fifteen,  to  the 
white  man,  for  this  horrid  purpose,  and  strange  to 
tell,  both  the  mother  and  the  daughter  seem  proud 
of  the  infamous  distinction.  Christianity  weeps  at 
facts  like  these  ; — humanity  and  philanthropy,  which 
have  struggled  so  hard  and  so  long  to  help  this  de- 
graded country,  must  weep  and  cover  themselves  with, 
sackcloth,  to  see  their  best  interests  so  wickedly  per- 
verted. Time  only  can  tell  the  destructive  influence 
of  such  excesses  on  the  interests  of  the  colony;  but, 
if  no  standard  be  lifted  up  to  check  the  tide  that  is 
now  setting  in  like  a  flood,  half  a  century  hence  we 
need  not  be  surprised  if  female  virtue  is  unknown  at 
Sierra  Leone.  If  it  has  not  been  done  already, 
without  a  great  change,  Europeans,  it  will  be  found, 
instead  of  raising  the  morals  of  the  people  up  to  the 
standard  of  christian  communities  in  general,  will 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  157 

have  lamentably  loioered  them.  How  fearful  the 
account  of  such  men  in  the  day  of  eternity  !  God 
forbid  that  I  should  do  the  place  injustice  ;  but  such 
vile  iniquity,  such  open  and  abandoned  prostitution 
as  is  practised  here,  ought  to  be  held  up  to  public 
scorn,  and  the  aggressors  made  ashamed,  if  indeed 
shame  they  have.  The  love  of  many  has  already 
waxed  cold  from  its  influence.  Some  it  has  already 
turned  back  like  the  dog  to  his  vomit ;  the  progress 
of  the  gospel  it  has  greatly  retarded,  and  it  has 
given  a  strength  to  infidelity  and  paganism,  that 
years  of  hard  toil  from  the  pious  missionary  will 
scarcely  overcome.  Vice  literally  has  a  premium,  and 
he  who  will  pay  most,  is  sure  to  have  virtue  sacri- 
ficed at  his  feet.  Horse-racing  and  gambling  prevail 
here,  too,  in  a  degree  not  to  have  been  expected  in  a 
colony  planted  for  the  special  purpose  of  civilizing 
and  evangelizing  Africa.  Duels  are  sometimes 
fought,  but,  like  those  of  England,  they  are  seldom 
fatal  to  either  of  the  parties.  Seven,  I  am  told, 
occurred  in  one  week,  but  neither  blood  nor  lives 
were  lost  in  either  of  them.  Bullets,  I  believe,  are 
generally  scarce  on  such  occasions.  Equally  fastid- 
ious, but  with  less  hardihood  than  a  Kentuckian, 
the  parties  return  from  the  field  of  combat  quite  as 
well  as  they  entered  it,  with  the  grateful  assurance 
of  having  vindicated  insulted  honor  by  firing  a  good 
charge  o(  powder  at  their  antagonist !  If  this  be  not 
ridiculous,  what  is  ?  Worse  than  this,  a  recent 
publication  in  England  charges  some  of  them  with 


158  REMAINS   OF 

aiding  and  abetting  in  the  accursed  practice  of  slave 
stealing.     What  is  man  ! 

To  these  abominations  fidelity  will  oblige  me  to 
add  one  more — that  of  intemperance.  I  have  not 
seen,  however,  a  great  many  instances  of  vulgar 
drunkenness.  The  great  evil,  I  suspect,  lies  in  what 
the  lover  of  spirit  calls  a  "  moderate,"  or  "  neces- 
sary" use  of  it.  With  this  plea,  and  each  one  being 
the  judge  of  the  moderation  or  necessity,  one  drinks 
his  gill,  another  his  two,  a  third  his  pint,  and  a  fourth 
his  quart  of  brandy  per  day.  This  is  no  hyper- 
bole. From  what  I  saw  and  heard  on  the  best  of 
evidence,  the  drunkard  himself  would  be  astounded 
to  know  the  quantity  of  fermented  and  distilled 
liquors  imported  in  one  year  into  Free  Town.  So  it  is. 
Even  in  benighted  Africa,  on  the  spot  selected  by 
religion  and  philanthropy,  where  they  might  scatter 
their  mutual  blessings,  erect  the  temples  of  science 
and  of  art,  and  churches  of  a  holy  God,  this  abomi- 
nation that  maketh  desolate — this  vicegerent  of  the 
devil — stalks  abroad  at  midnight  and  at  noon,  making 
man  worse  than  barbarous  here,  and  treasuring  up 
for  him  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath  hereafter. 
God  have  mercy  !  God  have  mercy  on  the  abettors 
of  this  soul-murdering  traffic  ! 

Eeligion. — But  in  the  midst  of  all  the  wickedness 
among  the  Europeans,  the  ignorance  and  supersti- 
tion of  the  surrounding  natives,  and  the  constant 
influx  of  "  liberated  Africans,"  religion  holds  a  most 
gracious  influence  in  the  colony.    It  was  planted  here 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  159 

with  the  earliest  permanent  history  of  the  place  ; 
and  though  there  has  been  much  to  oppose  its  pro- 
gress, and  mighty  obstacles  to  be  overcome,  there 
have  always  been  a  "  little  few  "  who  loved  God,  and 
"held  on  their  way."  By  these,  prayer  was  offered 
and  the  prayer  was  heard ;  and  now  there  are 
hundreds,  who  have  been  gathered  from  the  wilds 
of  this  waste  wilderness,  that  can  bear  testimony  to 
the  truth  of  the  gospel  and  to  its  power  over  sin.  In 
the  midst  of  the  iniquity  of  those  who  were  nursed 
under  the  institutions  of  Christianity,  but  who  have 
thrown  off  its  restraints,  as  the  shackles  of  superstir 
tion,  the  christian  stranger  cannot  be  long  in  the 
place  without  feeling  that  God  is  here.  The  Sabbath 
is  here,  churches  are  here,  ministers  of  Christ  are 
here,  and,  in  a  word,  here  are  all  the  essentials  of  a 
community  of  true  christians.  But  as  in  the  "city 
full,"  so  at  Sierra  Leone,  it  is  seen  less  under  the 
gilded  spire  than  in  the  little  thatched  hut  or  grass- 
roofed  church. 

Church  Missionary  Society. — If  we  pass  by  the 
unsuccessful  mission  of  Dr.  Coke,  for  the  Foulah 
country,  in  1796,=^  the  first  of  anything  Vike  foreign 
religious  effort  for  this  place,  was  made  by  the 
Church  Missionary  Society  of  London.  In  1804, 
two  clergymen  and  a  lady  were  sent  out  under  its 
direction.  From  that  time  till  now,  their  efforts  in 
support  of  the  mission  have  been  as  constant  as  they 

*  Diew's  Life  of  Dr.  Coke,  p.  2C8. 


160  BEMAINS   OF 

are  christian  and  benevolent.  Nearly  one  hundred, 
including  clergj'men,  catechists,  their  wives,  &c.  have 
been  provided  and  sent  out  at  their  expense,  half  of 
whom,  to  say  the  least,  have  here  found  a  grave. 
But  with  these  frequent  inroads  on  their  number  by 
death,  and  with  some  other  embarassments  too  pain- 
ful to  be  mentioned,  the  Society  still  continues  its 
exertions  for  this  portion  of  the  outcasts  of  Ham,  with 
a  patience  and  perseverance  of  labor  worthy  the 
cause  in  which  it  has  engaged.  It  has  now,  under 
its  charge  in  the  colony,  six  churches  and  eight 
congregations.  Religion  with  them  is  said  to  be 
rather  prosperous  than  otherwise,  though  when  com- 
pared with  former  reports,  there  appears  to  be  some 
diminution  in  number,  and  a  little  declension  of  zeal. 
It  was  remarked,  however,  by  one  of  its  friends,  that 
there  was  as  much  real  piety  among  them  now  as  at 
any  time  since  the  commencement  of  tlie  mission. 
Including  the  colonial  church,  which  I  lielieve  is 
supported  by  the  national  establishment,  I  may  set 
down  between  three  and  four  thousand  as  waiting 
more  or  less  on  their  ministry. 

Wesleyan  Methodists. — The  emig^ation  from 
Nova  Scotia,  in  1791,  brought  with  it  some  Metho- 
dists. They  soon  formed  themselves  into  a  society, 
and  two  or  three  of  the  most  intelligent  among  the 
brethren  were  appointed  to  watch  over  its  spiritual 
interests.  Though  poor,  they  contrived  after  a  while 
to  build  them  a  church,  and  continued  to  preach  in  it 
with  considerable  success  until  1811,  when,  in  an- 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  161 

swer  to  many  pressing  letters  from  the  colonists,  Dr. 
Coke  ^  sent  to  their  aid  Warren,  Hayley,  Reyner, 
and  Hurst,  who  had  nobly  volunteered  themselves 
for  this  service.  Warren  died,  and  for  a  while  a 
cloud  seemed  to  rest  on  the  prospects  of  the  mission  ; 
but  his  place  was  soon  supplied  by  another;  and 
since  the  death  of  Dr.  Coke,  the  mission  has  been 
sustained  by  the  untiring  hand  of  the  Wesleyan  Mis- 
sionary Society  of  London.  Eight  have  perished  in 
this  glorious  work,  but  love  for  souls  and  zeal  for 
God  can  conquer  death.  There  are  still  those  who 
say  of  even  Sierra  Leone — "  Here  am  I,  send  me." 

The  station  is  now  supplied  with  two  young  men, 
who,  in  the  spirit  of  their  Master,  have  taken  their 
lives  in  their  hands  and  come  forth  to  this  land  of 
darkness,  to  point  sinners  to  Christ.  Owing  to 
affliction,  one,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Maer,  arrived  here  only  a 
few  weeks  since  ;  the  other.  Rev.  Mr.  Ritchie,  with 
almost  indescribable  toil  and  fatigue,  has  supplied 
the  place  of  two  for  the  last  nine  months.  Nor  has 
his  labor  been  in  vain.  More  than  one  hundred 
have  been  added  to  the  church  the  last  year,  and  the 
work  is  still  progressing.  Several  have  given  evi- 
dence of  conversion  within  the  few  days  I  have  been 
in  the  colony,  and  others  are  seeking  for  it  with 
great  earnestness  and  deep  contrition  of  spirit.  I 
may  say  with  safety,  that  God  is  at  work  among 
the    people ;     and  I  trust  that  the  day  is  not  far 

•  Coke's  Life,  pp.  343,  344. 
11 


162  REMAINS   OF 

distant  when  the  iniquity  that  now  stalks  abroad  at 
noon-day  will  at  last  be  ashamed  and  hide  itself. 

Among  those  gathered  in,  in  the  late  revival,  are 
some  of  the  most  respectable  and  intelligent  in  the 
colony.  A  line  or  two  from  my  private  journal,  will 
give  to  the  reader  my  own  impressions  of  the  worth 
of  one  : — 

"  Yesterday  evening  I  dined  in  company  with  Mr. 

and  Mrs. .     A  more  intelligent  lady  than  Mrs. 

I  have  seldom  met  with  anywhere.     She  is  a 

native  of  Africa,  and  of  the  family  of  a  distinguished 
chief  of  the  Soosoo  kingdom.  But  for  her  complex- 
ion, no  one  could  believe  for  a  moment  that  she  was 
from  the  wilds  of  this  dark  wilderness.  She  has 
visited  England  and  Ireland,  was  educated  in 
America,  and  will  now  entertain  with  as  much  gen- 
tility and  intelligence  as  ladies  of  the  first  rank  in 
general.  Recently  she  has  been  born  again.  She 
is  deeply  pious,  well  educated,  and  promises  great 
usefulness  to  the  church,  and  if  faithful,  cannot  but 
exert  the  most  happy  influence  on  those  around  her. 
Her  husband  has  followed  her  example,  and  they 
are  both  now  members  of  our  church.  They  have 
one  son  at  school  in  England,  and  several  interesting 
children  at  home.  God  bless  them ;  may  they  be 
kept  by  his  power  through  faith  unto  eternal  life." 

This  mission  has  now  seven  churches  ;  three  of 
stone,  the  others  of  cane  or  basket  bodies,  with  grass 
or  bamboo-leaf  roofs.  There  are  four  hundred  and 
nineteen  members  in  full  fellowship,  sixty-three  on 


MELVILLE  B.    COX.  163 

trial,  and  ten  colored  *  local  preachers,  who  very 
much  aid  in  the  duties  of  the  sanctuary.  The  aver- 
age attendance  on  our  ministry  is  estimated  at  four- 
teen hundred ;  but  I  should  think  this  estimate  below 
what  it  really  is. 

This  little  sketch,  however,  does  not  give  a  just 
view  of  the  fruits  of  Methodism  at  Sierra  Leone. 
As  in  America,  so  here,  some  have  found  peace 
through  the  labors  of  our  zealous  ministry,  who  now 
walk  no  more  with  us.  Others,  who  had  been 
nursed  a  few  years  as  official  members,  thinking 
themselves  too  wise  to  endure  the  checks  of  a  Wes- 
leyan  discipline,  have  taken  leave  and  "  set  up  for 
themselves." 

In  1823,  a  separation  took  place  which  nearly 
ruined  the  society.  The  separatists  still  hold  our 
largest  chapel,  but  it  is  expected  that  justice  will 
soon  open  its  doors  to  those  to  whom  it  belongs. — 
But  the  spirit  of  radicalism  still  continues,  and  I  fear 
has  exerted  a  most  destructive  influence  on  the 
interests  of  vital  godliness.  There  are  not  less  than 
six  or  eight  churches,  or  chapels,  as  they  are  called, 
in  the  colony,  which  are  offsprings  of  this  spirit  of 
religious  faction.  Some  of  them,  no  doubt,  may  be 
truly  good.  Others,  who  are  of  but  yesterday  and 
know  nothing,  and  of  whose  piety  moralists  might 
be   ashamed,   have   assumed   the   direction   of  the 


*  I  u(e  the  word  colored  for  blacki,  u  well  ts  those  that  are  yellow  or 
mixed. 


164  REAIAINS    OF 

church  with  but  little  more  ceremony  than  Would  be 
made  by  the  clerk  of  a  counting-house  in  entering 
upon  the  duties  of  his  office.  Such  men,  with  a 
self-sufficiency  and  confidence  an  angel  would 
tremble  to  feel,  seem  well  fitted  to  impose  on  the 
ignorant  nations  around  them.  And  it  is  to  be 
feared  that  the  latitudinarian  policy  of  the  government 
has  a  most  tempting  tendency  to  encourage  men  of 
this  character,  in  this — shall  I  say,  mockery  of  gospel 
discipline  ?  Almost  any  man,  whether  duly  author- 
ized or  not,  can  obtain  license  of  the  government  to 
baptize  ;  nay,  the  Executive  himself,  without  any  par- 
ticular pretensions  to  piety,  has  occasionally  admin- 
istered the  ordinance.  Thus  has  the  sacredness=*  of 
the  ministerial  office  been  lightly  esteemed,  and  its 
interests  committed  to  the  direction  of  unhallowed 
hands. 

An  African  Female  Class  Meeting. — A  few 
days  after  my  arrival  in  the  colony,  we  were  visited 
by  some  of  our  poor  liberated  Africans,  who  are 
members  of  our  t  church.  They  came  by  special 
invitation,  and  were  desired  to  relate  some  of  the 
most  interesting  incidents  in  their  christian  expe- 

♦  Daniel  Baker  is  here,iia8  assumed  Episcopal  powers,  and  a  few  months 
since,  ordained  two  to  the  office  of  deacon.  Since  then  he  has  been  placed 
in  charge  of  a  congregation  in  one  of  the  back  villages,  with  a  salary  of 
JE150  per  year. 

t  I  say  OUR,  because  Wesleyan  Methodists  are  one  throughout  the 
world. 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  165 

rience.  They  all  spoke  in  broken  English,"*  and  I 
believe  converse  in  it  generally.  To  an  American 
ear,  it  is  a  strange  tongue ;  but  by  their  suiting 
action  so  much  to  their  words,  and  uttering  them 
under  a  corresponding  expression  of  feeling,  with 
the  aid  of  a  little  interpretation  from  one  of  our  mis- 
sionaries, I  understood  them  quite  well. 

It  was  an  impressive  scene.  It  was  a  lovely 
morning.  I  was  in  Africa — in  the  Wesleyan  mis- 
sion-house— surrounded  by  fifteen  or  twenty  native 
females,  who  a  few  years  since  had  been  cruelly  torn 
from  home  by  the  slave-stealer,  immured  in  a  slave 
ship,  with  the  hope  of  nothing  before  them  but  the 
horrors  of  a  life  of  servitude  under  a  Portuguese  task- 
master ;  but  who,  by  a  gracious  Providence,  had  been 
"  liberated,"  and  kindly  returned  to  their  own  coun- 
try, under  circumstances  far  more  favorable  than 
those  in  which  they  had  been  born.  They  had 
been  pagans — were  now  christians. 

More  of  the  simplicity,  power,  and  efficacy  of  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  I  have  seldom  seen,  than 

*  Bad  English  is  now  assuming  an  importance  among  the  evils  of  the 
colony,  which  those  who  have  been  the  occasion  of  it  once  could  not  have 
believed.  An  American  can  now  scarcely  understand  the  colonists.  Those 
that  did  speak  good  English  among  the  blacks— and  I  may  say  it  of  Euro- 
peans in  general — instead  of  preserving  it,  have  accommodated  themselves 
to  a  kind  of  broken  English,  more  barbarous,  if  possible,  than  the  most 
barbarous  among  the  Africans.  It  is  a  mere  jargon.  I  know  no  more  what 
half  of  them  say  than  if  they  were  talking  gibberish.  And  yet  they  talk 
English  !  But  for  the  schools,  it  would  be  but  a  few  years  hence,  before 
another  language  would  be  added  to  this  already  polyglot  colony,  for  which 
thfife  is  now  do  name. 


166  REMAINS    OF 

was  manifested  in  this  little  African  class  meeting. 
If  they  were  ignorant  of  the  philosophy  of  religion, 
or  of  even  some  of  the  simplest  terms  by  which 
its  first  principles  are  expressed,  they  certainly  were 
not  strangers  to  the  nature  of  what  I  call  religion. 
They  know  the  power  of  God  on  the  human  heart. 
They  know  that  they  were  once  blind — that  now 
they  see.  Agreeably  to  a  well  kno\vn  law  in  the 
human  mind,  intellect  can  know  perfectly  and  dis- 
tinctly what  it  cannot  express  intelligibly  to  another. 
So  of  these  poor  children  of  the  forest — they  know  the 
enkindlings  of  God's  love,  and  the  divine  influence 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  certainly  as  the  best  taught 
christian  in  America.  How  God  "  reveals  himself" 
to  minds  so  untutored,  and  to  Hottentots  who  know 
comparatively  nothing,  is  not  for  me  now  to  show. 
I  only  speak  of  the  fact.  He  does  it,  and  leaves 
Nicodemuses  to  '*  wonder  and  perish,"  or  learn  to 
receive  the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  little  children. 
But  to  return  to  our  class  meeting.  Experience  has 
well  taught  them  what  means  the  "  wormwood  and 
the  gall."  Deeper  convictions  of  sin,  or  a  more 
lively  sense  of  God's  abhorrence  of  it,  I  have  rarely 
heard  from  a  christian  congregation.  When  under 
conviction,  to  use  their  own  language,  they  "  no  eat, 
no  drink  ;  "  their  "  heart  trouble  them  too  much." 
A  christian  needs  no  farther  proof  of  their  real 
brokenness  of  heart,  than  to  listen  to  one  of  their 
prayers.  There  is  in  it  a  sincerity  and  fervor,  a 
real  outpouring  of  heart,  and  a  spirit  of  supplication. 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  167 

blended  with  humble  confidence,  so  that  the  convic- 
tion is  irresistible,  that  they  are  communing  with  God. 
Their  expressions  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ  are 
uttered  with  so  much  simplicity,  that  they  are  stiU 
more  affecting.  "  He  hang  on  de  cross — he  bleed 
— he  crucified,  to  save  my  poor  one  soul."  "  Oh,  I 
never  can  do  enough  for  Jesus." — "  What  can  I  do — 
what  can  I  tell  him,  to  please  him  dis  morning  ! " 

Infidels  condemn  all  this  as  delusion ; — the  wicked 
have  been  heard  to  say,  that  "  there  was  not  a  good 
colored  man  in  the  colony ;"  but  I  can  only  say,  if  I 
ever  knew  anything  about  experimental  religion, 
the  members  of  this  class  know  what  it  is.  They 
feel  the  same  love — the  same  power — the  same  con- 
trition of  heart  and  sorrow  for  having  offended  a 
holy  God — and  the  same  confidence  in  his  protection 
and  mercy.  They  trust  in  the  same  Saviour,  and 
feel  the  same  solicitude  for  the  salvation  of  others, 

A  few  more  expressions  which  I  penned  down  at 
the  moment,  perhaps  may  not  be  uninteresting. 
They  may  faintly  illustrate  their  confidence  in  the 
divine  mercy,  and  the  "  purpose  of  heart "  with 
which  they  intend  to  follow  Christ.  "  He  be  with 
me  in  trouble ;  when  Satan  come,  he  with  me.  He 
with  me  in  sickness — he  with  me  all  de  timey 
"  Me  hold  fast  that  which  Christ  give  me — me  no 
let  it  go.  Me  creep  to  follow  my  Jesus."  "  I  feel  a 
little  heaven  in  my  heart  all  de  time ;  for  me  to  live 
is  Christ,  to  die  is  gain."  But  it  should  be  remem- 
bered that  these  expressions  did  not  Hall  from  their 


16S  REMAINS    OF 

lips  as  they  do  from  my  pen ; — they  were  uttered 
with  tears — with  a  deep  sense  of  their  utter  unwor- 
thiness  of  the  least  of  God's  mercies,  and  in  full 
hope  of  immortality  and  eternal  life.  I  should  do 
them  injustice,  and  their  instructors  too,  were  I  not 
to  say,  they  have  no  confidence  in  the  flesh,  what- 
ever. They  trust  emphatically  in  Christ;  and 
nothing  short  of  a  chanc;-e  of  a  heart  and  its  attes- 
tation by  the  blessed  Spirit  can  satisfy  them.  With 
this  "  certain  hope,"  death  has  to  them  no  terror, 
and,  as  christians  ever  should,  they  look  forw^ard  to 
heaven  with  all  the  simplicity  that  a  child  looks  to 
his  father's  home. 

Our  class  meeting  ended  in  a  prayer  meeting,  and 
was  closed  by  a  farewell  hymn,  which,  judging  from 
its  poetry,  might  have  been  composed  in  Africa.  It 
was  sung,  however,  with  great  sincerity,  with  much 
christian  affection,  and  with  that  depth  of  feeling 
which  in  every  climate  characterizes  the  African 
character.  To  some  the  meeting  might  have  been 
unworthy  of  note  or  record  ;  but  it  was  accompanied 
with  so  much  of  divine  influence,  and  awakened 
wiihin  me  such  commingled  feelings  of  joy  and 
hope,  of  fear  and  trembling,  that  I  shall  long,  long 
remember  the  African  female  class  meeting  at 
Sierra  Leone. 

A  few  days  after,  I  attended  a  love-feast ;  but  I 
have  dwelt  so  long  on  the  class  meeting,  that  a  few 
lines  on  this  will  be  suflicient.  It  was  held  in  the 
Maroon  chapel — a  neat  stone  building,  which  will 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  169 

seat  comfortably  four  or  five  hundred.  It  was  well 
filled.  The  services  were  introduced,  as  usual  with 
us,  by  the  preacher  in  charge.  A  prayer  was  offer- 
ed, hymns  were  sung,  the  bread  and  water  were 
handed,  and  the  members  desired  to  speak.  From 
this  moment  till  the  end  of  the  meeting,  which  lasted 
over  two  hours,  there  was  not  at  one  time,  perhaps, 
two  minutes'  silence — nay,  not  one.  Occasionally  in 
their  anxiety  to  "  speak  that  they  might  be  refresh- 
ed," two  would  rise  at  the  same  moment,  but  the 
first  who  heard  the  other  immediately  sat  down. 
Though  they  are  in  a  warm  climate,  and  during  a 
part  of  the  meeting  they  were  under  great  excite- 
ment of  feeling,  there  was  much  less  of  extravagance 
either  in  language  or  action  than  I  have  frequently 
met  with  in  the  colored  congregations  in  America. 
Most  of  them  "  spoke  tremblingly,"  but  I  do  not 
recollect  to  have  seen  any  one  fall  on  the  floor,  or 
remove  from  his  place.  One  father,  in  particular, 
whose  son  and  daughter  had  recently  found  peace, 
shouted  aloud,  and,  as  was  very  natural,  sometimes 
he  did  it  very  lustily,  but  he  did  it  "  decently  and  in 
order  ;"  and  so  far  from  condemning  him,  when  I 
heard  his  children  testifying  what  God  had  done  for 
them,  my  heart  responded  a  hearty  and  quite  as 
loud  an  Amen  ! 

The  assembly  was  composed  of  all  ages,  from 
eighty  down  to  the  mere  child.  There  were  among 
them  a  poor  "  blind  man,"  and  a  sergeant  in  uniform 


170  REMAINS   OF 

from  the  military  establishment ;  and  the  mother  of 
the  queen  of  a  neighboring  kingdom  loas  there,  and 
spoke  with  great  feeling  and  considerable  intelli- 
gence. 

Their  experiences  were  very  similar.  To  bor- 
row the  language  of  the  sergeant,  they  "  had 
worshipped  the  devly  god  * — had  been  very  wicked 
— had  been  in  darkness — saw  no  light."  But  Christ 
through  his  ministry,  and  by  the  agency  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  came  to  them  "  and  say,  Dis  be  de  way,  walk 
in  it.  Me  say  no.  He  come  again — my  heart 
trouble  me — me  very  sick — me  go  and  pray,"  &c. 
The  end  of  it  was,  they  followed  Christ,  and  found 
peace  in  believing,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Schools. — Learning,  as  well  as  religion,  has  been 
a  leading  object  among  the  friends  of  the  colony, 
ever  since  its  commencement ;  and  much  has  been 
done  for  its  support.  ♦The  school-master,  as  well  as 
the  clergyman,  was  in  the  first  mission  of  the  Wes- 
leyan  Methodists,  in  1811  and  1813.  The  Church 
Missionary  Society  engaged  in  it  with  a  strong 
hand.  From  that  period  till  now,  the  efforts  of  the 
societies  have  been  unceasing  in  the  promotion  of 
this  great  work.     During  the  past  year,  the  Church 

*  The  description  which  one  gave  in  speaking  of  her  conrictioni  of  ever- 
lasting punishment,  struck  me  rather  forcibly,  tliough  it  showed  an  igno- 
rance of  the  true  nature  of  the  immateriality  of  the  soul.  "  Minister  say," 
■aid  she,  "  if  wicked  man  die,  he  burn  and  burn  till  he  burn  all  up ;  then 
he  be  made  up  again,  and  burn  forever." 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  171 

Missionary  Society,  of  itself,  has  expended  in  the 
colony  £3,712;  and  though  death  in  years  past  has 
made  great  havoc  among  its  teachers,  it  still  con- 
tinues its  undiminished  exertions.  They  have  now 
about  three  thousand  in  the  different  villages  under 
tuition,  with  an  average  attendance  of  about  two 
thousand.  This  includes,  however,  adults,  Sunday 
school,  evening,  and  day  scholars  ;  all  of  whom, 
while  they  are  taught  more  or  less  the  elementary 
branches  of  English  education,  are  carefully  instruct- 
ed in  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel.  Such  labors  of 
love  cannot  be  in  vain.  Its  fruit  may  not  as  yet 
have  been  as  evidently  seen  as  was  expected  by 
some  of  its  friends  ;  but  the  fires  it  has  enkindled 
cannot  be  concealed  long.  As  soon  as  the  mustard 
seed  shall  have  taken  deep  root,  it  will  spring  up 
with  a  luxuriance  and  strength  proportionate  to  the 
labor  with  which  it  was  planted.  Then,  with  the 
blessing  of  God,  may  we  hope  that  these  Africans, 
gathered  by  the  slave  ship  from  almost  every  tribe 
in  Africa,  "  liberated  "  by  the  hand  of  humanity, 
and  placed  under  the  tuition  of  the  church  of  Christ, 
will  soon  be  penetrating  the  forests  to  their  long  lost 
homes,  richly  laden,  with  the  Book  of  God  in  one 
hand,  that  of  man  in  the  other.  Light  and  truth 
cannot  be  inert,  nor  can  the  work  of  faith  be  in  vain. 
It  must  be  that  the  end  will  be  glorious. 

I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  visiting  either  of 
the  schools  under  their  charge,  but  from  a  short  in- 


172  REMAINS    OF 

terview  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Raban,  of  Fourah  Bay,  I 

learn  that  they  are,  in  general,  prosperous. 

The  Wesleyan  Mission  has  two  schools  of  about 
eighty-five  each  under  its  care,  but  under  the  im- 
mediate tuition  of  two  native  instructors.  Once  a 
week  they  visit  the  mission-house  for  examination, 
when  each  receives  the  reward  of  a  little  book. 
One  of  these  examinations  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
attending.  The  children  *  were  from  about  four  to 
fourteen  years  of  age,  and,  for  Africa,  were  all  de- 
cently clad.  All  that  attended  could  read  in  the 
Testament,  and  some  of  them  admirably.  And  they 
seemed  to  understand  what  they  read.  I  asked 
a  little  fellow  what  a  "nobleman"  meant.  "A 
rich  and  a  good  man,"  said  he — a  definition  which, 
though  we  may  wish  it  were  just,  he  certainly  could 
never  have  heard  of  before.  I  asked  another,  equal- 
ly small,  what  "  two  days  "  meant.  "  To-day  and 
to-morrow,"  said  he.  "  Forty-eight  hours  "  might 
have  been  more  scholastic,  but  certainly  not  more 
accurate.  Of  another  I  inquired  who  a  "  prophet  " 
was.  "  One  man  sent  to  preach  de  word  of  God," 
said  he,  with  scarce  a  moment's  reflection.  Of 
another,  still  more  intelligent,  I  inquired  the  mean- 
ing of  "  sin.''^  "  If  a  man  steal,  dat  be  sin,  sir;  if  a 
man  curse,  dat  be  sin,  sir ;  if  a  man  break  the  Sab- 
bath, dat  be  sin,  sir ;  if  a  man  swear,  dat  be  sin,  sir ; 

*  The  ages  of  the  native  cliiMren  are  here  unknown. 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  173 

if  a  man  do  dat  which  be  not  right,  dat  be  sin,  sir." 
The  definition  I  thought  worthy  of  preservation,  and 
have  given  it  word  for  word  as  uttered  by  the  boy. 

They  spell,  in  general,  quite  well,  and  a  few  of 
them  had  made  a  considerable  progress  in  arithmetic. 
Several  of  them,  not  more  than  seven  or  eight, 
write  a  hand  far  more  legible  than  my  own.  One 
or  two  read  as  fluently,  and  with  as  much  propriety, 
as  Americans  of  the  same  size  ;  but  then  it  should 
be  remembered  that  my  specimens  are  selected  from 
the  better  sort  of  them.  But  the  more  I  see  of  the 
African  character,  the  more  I  am  assured  that, 
under  similar  circumstances,  they  are  not  inferior  in 
intellect  to  the  rest  of  the  human  species.  Indeed  I 
can  scarcely  realize  that  I  am  in  dark  and  degraded 
Africa — the  country  of  Hottentots  and  cannibals. 

These  schools  are  principally  supported  by  a  few 
ladies  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  in  Peckham,  Eng- 
land. 

Labor. — Labor  is  extremely  low  in  the  colony. 
Indeed  I  cannot  conceive  how  an  American  or  Eng- 
lish settler,  unless  he  is  a  mechanic,  can  possibly 
compete  with  the  natives  of  the  place.  Hale,  hearty, 
and  athletic  Kroomen  sometimes  work  for  an  Eng- 
lish sixpence  per  day,  and  "  find  themselves  ;  "  and 
the  worth  of  one  day's  labor  will  support  them  for  a 
week.  They  live  on  fruit,  and  the  vegetable  produc- 
tions of  the  country ;  and  these  cost  but  little  more 


174  EEMAINS   OF 

than  white  sorrel  on  an  American  beach.'*  Oranges 
sell  at  a  shilling  and  one  and  sixpence  per  bushel, 
and  the  most  delicious  pine-apples  that  I  ever  tasted 
can  be  purchased  three  for  a  penny.  Cassada  is 
but  sixpence  per  bushel,  and  other  productions  of 
the  country  are  proportionably  cheap. 

One  pound  per  month  is  considered  high  wages  for 
domestic  men-servants  ;  and  out  of  this  they  find 
their  own  provision  and  clothes. 

Health. — The  climate  here  now  is  much  warmer 
than  at  the  Gambia.  The  thermometer  has  generally 
ranged  from  80  to  84  ;  occasionally  it  has  fallen  as 
low  as  summer  heat,  and  once  or  twice,  two  degrees 
below  it.  What  renders  the  heat  here  more  sensible, 
is  the  mountains  with  which  Free  Town  is  half 
surrounded.  These  break  off  all  the  moderate 
breezes  from  the  south,  and  leave  the  town  some- 
times with  scarcely  a  breath  of  air  at  noon-day. 
Then  we  feel  how  grateful  is  the  "  shadow  of  a  great 
rock,"  and  then  we  know  the  power  of  a  noon-day 
African  sun. 


*  Thoagh  the  fruit  and  vegetables,  which  are  the  production  of  Africa, 
are  so  tematkably  cheap,  the  foroigner,  whether  white  or  black,  it  but 
very  little  benefited  by  them.  On  these  he  does  not,  cannot  live.  Sice 
sella  at  a  dollar  a  "  tub," — a  measure  that  is  perhaps  a  little  more  than  a 
bushel.  Flour,  nine  and  ten  dollars  per  barrel.  Salt  meats,  and  indeed 
everything  from  an  American  or  English  market,  pays  nearly  a  hundred, 
even  two  hundred  per  cent.,  and  many  things  much  more.  On  this  the 
colonist!  are  obliged  to  live.  This  is  an  evil,  I  presume,  all  along  the 
coast,  which  cannot  be  remedied  until  Africa  ig  so  far  civilized  as  to  rely 
on  ber  own  resources. 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  175 

I  have  mentioned  elsewhere,  I  believe,  that  more 
than  half  a  hundred  Church  missionaries,  including 
catechists,  &c.  &;c.  have  here  found  a  grave.  Eight 
Wesleyan  missionaries  have  died  also.  But  these 
days  of  peril  have  in  a  great  measure  passed  away. 
The  colony  is  now  much,  much  healthier  than  it  has 
been,  but  the  exact  per-centage  of  deaths  for  the  past 
year  I  found  it  impossible  to  learn.  Grave-diggers 
either  cannot,  or  do  not  count ;  physicians  are  not 
required  to  make  returns  ;  and  many  die,  like  the 
felons  in  England,  without  the  "  benefit  of  the  cler- 
gy," or  the  attentions  of  a  regular  physician.  From 
common  remark,  however,  I  should  think  Sierra 
Leone,  the  mountains  in  particular,  quite  as  healthy 
as  the  Southern  States  in  general. 


176  REMAINS    OF 


CORRESPONDENCE. 


The  following  letters,  and  portions  of  letters, 
are  selected  from  a  considerable  quantity  which 
were  put  into  the  Editor's  hands  with  that 
view.  They  furnish  perhaps  the  best  illustra- 
tions of  the  real  character  of  Mr.  Cox  which  can 
be  had  in  any  of  his  papers,  next  to  his  private 
journals ;  and  upon  some  subjects,  much  better 
than  even  those.  "Written  in  haste  "  they  were, 
of  course,  as  he  mentions  in  one  of  the  number 
inserted  here;  but  what  they  lose  from  that 
circumstance  in  the  value  of  their  style,  as 
literary  specimens,  is  more  than  made  up  by 
the  greater  insight  they  give  us,  for  the  same 
reason,  into  the  habits  and  spirit  of  the  man. 
The  first,  it  will  be  seen,  is  without  date ;  but 
the  tenor  of  it  points  with  sufficient  plainness 
to  the  period  of  its  composition. 

The  few  miscellanies  which  close  the  volume 
are  also,  it  is  believed,  of  a  character  to  require 
neither  apology  nor  explanation,  as  to  the  pur- 
pose or  propriety  of  their  admission. 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  177 


LETTERS. 

My  dear  Sister  : — I  have  but  a  moment  to  write, 
and  that  I  will  improve  in  directing  a  line  to  my 
only  sister,  in  this  the  hour  of  my  deepest  gloom. 
Your  consoling  letter — the  dictate,  I  am  sure,  of  the 
best  of  feelings,  from  the  best  of  sisters — has  just 
been  read.  But  oh !  my  sister,  what  recollections, 
what  feelings,  it  awaked  from  a  momentary  slumber, 
I  cannot  tell.  I  have  buried  two  sisters — little 
cherubs  of  innocence  ;  I  have  listened  to  the  melan- 
choly knell  which  tolled  for  two  dear  brothers,  the 
hope  of  an  afflicted  family  ;  I  heard  with  agonized 
feelings  of  the  death  of  a  father ;  but  I  never  knew 
the  loss  of  the  partner  of  all  my  joys  and  sorrows, 
till  now.  I  have  met,  my  dear  Emily,  many  ills  in 
life  ;  I  have  tasted  many  sorrows,  owing,  perhaps, 
to  the  peculiar  temperament  of  a  mind  naturally 
sensitive ;  many  hopes,  big  with  promise,  have  with- 
ered, in  the  progress  of  time,  like  the  blasted  rose, 
or  been  shattered  as  v/ith  the  lightning's  scathing 
blast ;  but  I  never  felt  the  severing  of  that  untold 
tie  which  mutual  confidence  and  mutual  love  form 
between  husband  and  wife.  It  was  a  scene,  my 
dear  sister,  at  which  common  humanity  would  have 
wept,  to  have  witnessed  the  painful  sufferings  of  my 
dear  wife,  and  one  on  which  a  husband  could  not 
look  with  any  command  of  feeling.  At  times,  es- 
pecially during  her  sickness,  I  mourned  without 
12 


178 


REMAINS   OF 


restraint ;  but  through  the  grace  of  God,  I  was  pre- 
pared to  meet  the  last  tale  of  mortality — "  she  's 
gone  " — with  more  fortitude  than  I  had  expected. 
But  oh !  the  daily  and  hourly  recollections  which 
each  little  incident — each  endearing  memento,  with 
which  her  memory  is  associated — brings  to  the  hours 
of  silence  and  solitude.  'T  is  when  alone  that  each 
kind  look,  and  those  little  attentions  for  which  she 
was  distinguished,  rise  up  before  me,  and  tell  me  I 
did  not  appreciate  her  worth.  And  well  I  may  feel 
the  loss  of  one  so  lovely. 

I  shall  write  my  dear  mother  as  soon  as  possible 
The  sympathies  of  all  I  am  sure  to  have.  Add  to 
these  your  fervent  prayers  that  this  affliction  may  fit 
me  for  a  better  world. 


The  following,  (partly  on  the  same  subject 
with  one  or  two  others  we  have  selected,) 
which  appears  never  to  have  been  sent,  as  ad- 
dressed, to  his  sister,  bears  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  second  division  of  it,  in  the  manu- 
script, the  date  of  Baltimore,  June  28,  1830. 

It  is  with  mingled  feelings  of  hope  and  fear  that  I 
am  now  looking  on  our  dear  little  Martha,  who,  for 
six  days,  has  been  very  ill  indeed,  with  a  catarrhal 
fever.  The  doctor  insists  that  there  is  neither  dan- 
ger nor  cause  of  alarm  ;  but  I  know  him  of  old. 


MELVILLE    B.    COX.  179 

The  fearful  side  of  the  picture,  however,  I  cannot 
look  at.  My  heart  bitterly  yearns  at  the  thought 
that  my  last  solace  on  earth  shall  be  taken  from  me. 
And  yet,  sister,  I  know  that  God  is  good — that  all 
his  ways,  though  to  us  unaccountable,  are  in  wis- 
dom and  in  love. 

The  moment  it  was  said  to  me  that  Martha  was 
ill,  I  felt  that  it  was  the  voice  of  death  ;  but  it  may 
have  been  owing  to  the  cutting  recollections  which 
her  sickness  awakened.  I  feel,  I  assure  you,  but 
ill  prepared  to  bear  the  shock  which  present 
appearances,  notwithstanding  all  the  doctor's  hopes, 
warn  me  to  apprehend  will  be  mine  to  endure. 

Martha  is  a  bud,  which  to  me  has  promised  much. 
She  is  not  pretty,  though  she  has  a  fair  forehead 
and  a  most  speaking  eye.  But  how  vain  is  hope  ! 
She  is  a  flower  that  I  have  carefully  watched  and 
watered  with  tears.  The  dear  little  thing  I  believe 
must  die  !  She  cannot  endure  the  tempest's  blast,*  * 

Thus  far,  my  dear  sister,  had  I  written,  before  the 
event  of  which  you  ere  this  have  heard.  She  died 
this  day  week,  and  was  buried  by  the  side  of  her 
dear  mother,  the  day  following.  I  should  have 
forwarded  the  above,  that  you  might  have  been 
prepared,  but  for  the  opinion  of  the  doctor  and 
friends,  and  some  flattering  change  in  the  disease. 
But  they  saw  not  with  the  solicitude  of  a  father. 
To  them,  probably,  the  death  of  my  child  was  no 
darkening  cloud.  They  could  not  feel  the  breaking 
of  ties  where  they  had  no  existence,  nor  the  yearn- 


180  REMAINS    OF 

ings  of  a  parent  for  his  first-born.  But  she  is  gone ! 
She  retained  the  most  perfect  recollection,  till  the 
last  moment  of  her  existence.  Not  two  minutes 
before  she  died,  she  raised  her  little  hands  to  her 
nurse,  and  asked  her  to  walk  her.  She  took  her  up, 
walked  across  the  room,  sat  dov.'n  in  a  chair,  and 
the  dear  little  thing  fell  asleep. 

Under  this  event,  1  had  feared  that  I  should  be 
overwhelmed.  But  my  feelings  are  subdued,  and 
calmer  than  could  be  expected.  When  it  was  first 
said  to  me  that  she  was  sick,  they  were  unutterable. 
I  went  to  my  room,  and  wept,  and  prayed  for  the 
life  of  my  child — my  only  child.  But  in  wisdom 
God  has  taken  her  to  himself;  and  though  my  heart 
feels  the  bitterness  of  sorrow,  though  I  longed  and 
struggled  for  the  life  of  the  child,  I  murmur  not. 
Though  he  "  slay  me,"  yet  will  I  trust  in  him. 

Yet  at  times,  sister,  my  cup  does  seem  to  have 
been  a  bitter  one.  What  vicissitudes  have  I  passed, 
in  a  short  life  of  thirty  years !  Still  I  know,  and 
what  is  better,  feel.,  that  God  has  been  infinitely  bet- 
ter to  me  than  I  have  deserved.  All  that  I  have 
experienced  within  the  last  eight  months,  I  am  sure, 
has  been  designed  for  my  special  benefit.  The 
child,  I  am  sure  too,  is  safe.  Thought  I,  when  I 
heard  of  its  death — "  Well,  there  is  a  happy  meeting 
in  heaven."  The  mother  and  child  will  both  join 
and  together  praise  God  that  they  have  escaped  the 
storms.  If  anxiety  could  be  felt  in  heaven,  I  am 
sure  Ellen  felt  it  for  Martha.     But  they  are  now 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  181 

safe,  and  beckon  me  on  to  a  holier  life,  and  for 
aught  I  know,  may  be  to  me  the  guardian  angels  of 
my  life. 

It  seems  as  if  there  was  no  sacrifice  which  I 
would  not  make,  could  I  see  you  all,  and  partake  of 
your  sympathy.  But  circumstances  will  not  permit 
it — it  must  be  deferred.  And  perhaps,  sister,  we 
may  never  meet  again  here  ;  but  oh !  may  we, 
may  we  meet  in  heaven  ! 

Nothing  was  wanting  in  Mrs.  W ,  the  lady 

who  took  care  of  Martha.  Speaking  of  Martha's 
intellect,  she  remarked  that  she  had  "  seen  many 
children  in  her  life,  but  that  she  never  had  seen, 
and  never  expected  to  see  her  equal."  ^  * 

I  am  now  sitting  in  my  office  alone — a  stranger 
comparatively,  still,  in  a  strange  land.  Like  a  tree 
that  has  been  riven  by  the  tempest,  until  root  and 
branch  have  felt  the  shock,  I  still  live  but  a  memento 
of  the  past.  My  wife  has  gone — my  child  is  no 
more.  How  soon  I  shall  follow  them  I  know  not. 
The  oak  that  has  braved  the  storm  must  fall  at  last. 


To  a  Friend  in  Affliction. 

Sept.  15,  1830. 

My  dear  Sir  : — I  sincerely  sympathize  with  you 
in  the  loss  of  your  truly  amiable  and  lamented 
father.    To  the  few  members  that  still  remain  of  your 


182  REMAINS   OF 

family,  his  memory  must  be  cherished  with  a  fond- 
ness, I  have  often  thought,  which  the  "many"  could 
never  feel.  I  have  but  a  few  relatives  ;  and  to  this 
circumstance  I  have  attributed  that  severity  of  grief 
which  the  loss  of  but  one  never  fails  to  awaken. 
But  our  loss,  I  sincerely  believe,  is  your  father's  in- 
finite gain.  Never,  probably,  since  he  arrived  at 
the  years  of  responsibility,  was  he  so  well  prepared 
for  an  exchange  of  worlds,  as  at  the  day  of  his 
death.  To  a  christian,  there  is  something  calculated 
to  excite  the  liveliest  gratitude,  and  the  most  pro- 
found adoration,  toward  that  infinitely  wise  Provi- 
dence which  has  so  lately  called  him  from  darkness 
to  light.  God  had  foreseen  the  event  which  we 
now  deplore,  and  in  mercy  had  prepared  him  for 
himself.  Thus  are  "his  paths  in  the  great  deep, 
and  his  footsteps  unknown." 

To  you,  as  an  only  son,  the  cup  must  be  a  bitter 
one.  When  the  trunk  falls  beneath  the  pressure  of 
the  storm,  the  branches  cannot  but  feel  the  shock. 
But  yours  is  the  privilege  to  find  from  a  "  bitter 
bud  "  a  flower  that  is  sweet.  Only  improve  it  as 
we  are  directed  to  in  the  gospel,  and  you  will  yet 
say — "  Good  is  the  hand  of  the  Lord  ;  let  him  do 
what  seemeth  him  good."  Then  this  "  chastening," 
though  afflicting,  shall  "  yield  the  peaceable  fruits  of 
righteousness." 

I  cannot  but  hope,  sir,  that  this  bereavement  will 
exert  a  happy  and  a  lasting  influence  upon  your 
religious  feelings.    You  have  already  seen  too  many 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  183 

of  the  vicissitudes  of  this  life,  to  hope  for  any  perma- 
nent enjoyment  in  this  state  of  being.  Tlie  death 
of  a  father  speaks,  with  a  force  irresistible,  that  this 
is  not  the  home  of  the  son.  Look,  then,  to  that 
world  which  is  as  endless  as  duration.  "  Lay  up 
treasure  in  heaven,"  and,  in  due  season,  you  will 
reap  its  ineffable  enjoyments.  Christ  yet  waits  to 
be  gracious  to  you,  and  all  heaven  beckons  you  on, 
to  secure  an  interest  in  his  blood.  But  soon  the 
scene  will  be  over,  the  curt{iin  drop,  and  a  day  of 
the  most  gracious  probation  exchanged  for  the  light 
of  eternity  and  the  inexorable  rewards  of  justice. 
Then  mercy  can  plead  no  longer,  for  friend  or  foe. 
He  that  is  unrighteous,  must  be  unrighteous  still. 
Then  shall  be  written  on  all  impenitents — "  Lo- 
ruhamah,"  and  "  Lo-ammi." 

Tender  to  your  sisters  my  kindest  regards,  and 
assure  your  mother  of  my  prayers,  that  hers  may  be 
the  widow's  God  in  this  hour  of  trial. 


To  a  Friend  in  Persecution. 

Georgetown,  D.  C.  Dec.  17,  1830. 

Dear  Brother  : — I  am  truly  pained  to  hear  that 
you  still  are  suffering  under  the  odium  of  a  calumny 
too  cruel  to  be  named,  and  unequalled  in  the  history 
of  modern  reform.     Censure,  when  made  against  a 


IS4  REMAINS    OF 

whole  community  of  christians,  is  of  but  little  con- 
sequence ;  because  the  identity  of  the  offender  is  lost 
in  the  multitude  criminated,  and  the  charge  divides 
itself  among  so  many,  that  its  force  is  unfelt  by  each. 
But  when  one  is  singled  out,  and  made  the  victim 
of  the  smothered  malignity  of  disappointed  partizans, 
and  the  accumulated  wrath  of  a  long  and  anxiously 
cherished  hostility,  he  must  be  more  than  mortal  not 
to  feel ;  and  unfeeling  must  that  heart  be,  which  will 
not  tender  the  sympathies  of  its  nature,  or  offer  any 
relief  in  its  power,  to  him  who  is  made  the  subject 
of  such  merciless  persecution.  Be  assured,  dear 
brother,  that  we  feel  for  you.  You  are  yet  remem- 
bered in  the  prayers  of  thousands.  Bear  that  re- 
proach— which  has  always  been  the  portion  of  good 
men — with  firmness,  but  subdued  feeling,  only  a 
"little  while  "  longer,  and  He  from  whom  no  secret 
is  hidden,  will  read  your  innocence  by  the  light  of 
eternity,  before  an  assembled  universe.  This  world 
cannot  do  justice  to  virtue.  "God  manifest  in  the 
flesh  "  was  persecuted,  spit  upon,  mocked,  falsely 
accused,  and  cruelly  put  to  death.  And  if  his  dis- 
ciples were  more  careful  to  imitate  his  example, 
doubtless  they  would  share  more  largely  in  those 
trials  peculiar  to  a  holy  life.  The  "world  to  come" 
will  make  all  right ;  and  it  is  only  a  moment  before 
we  shall  enter  it.  Say  to  your  enemies,  as  a  Ro- 
man chieftain  did  to  a  spirit,  "  I  '11  meet  thee  there." 
If  a  want  of  responsibility  in  your  shameless  per- 
secutors, prevent  you  from  seeking  that  redress  in  a. 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  185 

court  of  justice  which  an  independent  judiciary 
would  not  fail  to  award  you,  it  is  well ;  more  certain 
and  "  greater  will  be  your  reward  "  hereafter. 
Commit  it  all  to  God.  And  this  little  storm  may  be 
the  precursor  of  the  brightest  day  that  you  have 
ever  witnessed.  The  strength  of  the  tree  can  only 
be  tested  by  the  violence  of  the  storm.  And  virtue 
never  commands  more  admiration  than  when  strug- 
gling with  the  infirmities  of  human  nature,  to  meet, 
unmoved,  the  unmerited  obloquy  of  outlaws  and 
unprincipled  hypocrites.  'T  is  then  its  real  worth 
and  fortitude  are  seen. 

I  really  wish  I  could  say  one  word  that  might 
be  comforting,  well-timed,  and  "  fitly  spoken."  I 
should  then  feel  that  I  had  caught  something  of  the 
spirit  of  our  divine  Master,  and  of  those  holy  angels 
who  ministered  to  him  after  his  agony  in  the  gar- 
den. It  is  the  spirit  of  our  holy  religion  to  partici- 
pate in  each  other's  sorrows,  and  to  "  bear  one  an- 
other's burdens."  Christ  never  forsook  his  disci- 
ples. When  toiling  amid  the  darkness  and  the 
tempest,  they  heard  his  voice  upon  the  waters,  say- 
ing— "  Be  not  afraid ;  it  is  I."  Let  me  repeat  it  to 
you,  brother — Greater  is  He  that  is  for  you  than 
all  that  are  against  you.  Trust  in  him,  and  you, 
your  reputation  and  cause,  are  all  safe.  And  all 
your  afflictions,  of  whatever  character  they  may  be, 
will  hereafter  "  yield  the  peaceable  fruits  of  right- 
eousness," if  "  exercised  thereby." 


186  REMAINS   OF 

When  I  commenced  this  letter,  I  intended  only  to 
say,  that  if  I  could  assist  you  in  any  way,  by  pen  or 
otherwise,  my  services  were  at  your  command. 
Would  that  I  could  assist  a  suffering  servant  of 
Christ !  Do  let  me  know  more  of  this  anomalous 
affair. 


Raleigh,  March  20,  1831. 

My  very  dear  Brother  : — I  have  just  returned 
from  the  labors  of  the  Sabbath  ;  am  alone  in  my 
room ;  had  a  little  refreshment  brought  to  me  ;  and 
now  sit  by  my  table,  too  much  exhausted  to  speak 
one  word.  I  preached  by  special  appointment  to  the 
young,  from — "  Wilt  thou  not,  from  this  time,  cry 
unto  me,  my  Father,  thou  art  the  guide  of  my 
youth."  The  close  was  affecting — deeply  so,  at 
least  to  myself — nor  less  so,  I  hope,  to  some  who 
are  strangers  to  religion.  I  have  strong  hopes  of 
one  from  this  day's  labor.  And  unless  I  shall  see 
the  work  of  God  revive,  I  have  but  little  hope  of  life. 
Mental  solicitude  has  become,  with  me,  a  kind  of 
virtue  ;  and  in  all  my  pulpit  labors,  and  preparations 
for  it,  I  cherish  it  as  indispensably  associated  with 
my  calling  to  the  ministry  of  God's  word.  Others 
may  philosophize  about  heaven  and  hell, — may  freeze 
their  own  lips  and  the  hearts  of  their  hearers,  with 
cold  moral  tales, — but  I  canriot,  if  I  have  constant 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  187 

communion  with  God.  Nor  do  I  think  myself  called 
to  it.  There  was  no  stoical  feeling  in  the  tears  of 
Christ  over  devoted  Jerusalem ;  none  in  the  mental 
agony  and  sweated  blood  in  the  garden.  The 
memorable  "  My  God  !  my  God  !  "  is  the  language 
of  unuttered  feeling.  The  apostles  warned  from 
house  to  house  with  tears.  And  shall  I  fold  my 
arms  in  ease  ?  No,  brother,  I  could  not  if  I  would, 
with  the  feelings  I  have  now.  Stones  would  cry 
out.  I  must  speak  to  be  refreshed.  I  do  not  con- 
demn those  who  point  a  different  course.  They 
stand  or  fall  to  their  own  master.  But  if  a  soul  is 
to  be  eternally  damned  or  saved,  it  is  the  blindness 
of  a  stupidity  colder  than  death,  not  to  be  in  earnest 
about  its  salvation.  I  believe,  as  much  as  I  believe 
I  hold  this  pen  in  my  hand,  that  the  want  of  zeal, 
ardor,  deep  feeling,  in  speaking  of  the  momentous 
truths  of  revelation,  in  ministers  of  the  gospel,  has 
sent  thousands  and  thousands  of  precious  souls  to 
eternal  wo. 

But,  brother,  perhaps  I  never  had  such  feelings  as 
I  now  have.  I  cannot  tell  them  to  you.  But  I  feel 
as  if  I  were  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  seat 
of  God.  Eternal  interest  seems  overpowering. 
When  I  bow  before  God,  he  seems  all  around  me 
and  within  me.  When  I  look  beyond  this  world, 
the  other  seems  exceedingly  near  to  me.  A  few 
evenings  since,  alone  in  my  room,  in  secret  prayer, 
it  seemed  as  if  the  last  idol  was  gone.  I  have 
since  found  many  reasons  to  doubt  it.     But  this  one 


188  REMAINS    OF 

thing  I  '11  do, — I  will  press  on,  nor  rest,  till  I  am  a 
holy  man.  I  cry  out  for  it  within  me,  and  I  am 
sure  it  will  come,  by  and  by.  I  want  to  know  all 
of  God  that  mail  can  htoiv,  and  live. 

A  part  of  the  five  years  past  seems  a  melancholy 
vacuum  in  the  history  of  my  poor  life.  But  by  the 
grace  of  God,  this  "shall  suffice,"  be  my  days  many 
or  few.  This  is  well ;  but  oh  !  would  to  God  it  had 
been  always  so. 

You  need  have  no  anxiety  about  me.  I  am 
among  friends — friends  who  love  me.  I  have  a 
comfortable  room  to  myself,  and  all  I  need ;  though 
not  in  sister's  style,  or  that  which  I  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  in  Baltimore.  But  I  have  enough — much 
better  than  had  my  gracious  Master.     I  am  with 

Mr.  S ,  a  merchant  of  this  place.     Mrs.  S 

is  just  such  a  lady  as  a  j\Iethodist  travelling  preacher 
delights  to  meet  with,  particularly  if  in  delicate 
health. 

We  shall  no  doubt  meet,  should  we  live,  at  the 
"  General  Conference  "  of  1836.  But  this  is  too  far 
ahead  for  me.  I  may  see  it,  but  I  doubt.  And  yet 
I  have  no  presentiment  that  I  shall  die  immediately. 
I  may  live  as  long  with  preaching  as  without  it,  for 
aught  I  know.  But  I  intend  to  be  prepared  for 
it,  come  when  it  may. 

Your  letter  gave  me  real  pleasure.  Its  kind  cau- 
tions I  will  do  the  best  I  can  to  observe.  I  have, 
however,  seldom  tried  to  preach  a  "  great "  sermon 
in  my  life,  and  never  since  my  sickness.     I  once 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  189 

tried  to  make  a  "  great "  prayer.  "  0  Lord,"  and 
"  Amen,"  commenced  and  ended  it ;  this  is  all  or 
nearly  every  word  of  it.  Not  one  sentence  could  I 
utter.  I  now  number  it  among  the  most  profitable  I 
ever  offered.     It  was  then  deeply  humiliating. 

I  read  your  interesting  letter  last  evening,  and  was 
much  affected  in  reading  it.  But  you  see  how  I 
have  answered  it — scarcely  alluded  to  it.  Well, 
you  want  to  know  of  me,  not  of  yourself.  I  think  I 
am  in  a  better  state  now  than  for  years.  But  all  is 
not  yet  right.  There  is  something  I  cannot  define 
yet,  which  must  be  crucified.  But  my  pride,  which 
has  so  long  been  a  curse  to  me,  is  nearly  broken. 
My  ambitious  hopes  are  buried.  And  I  hope  soon 
to  be,  if  I  live,  a  plain,  humble,  holy  minister  of 
God.  Pray,  my  dear  brother,  that  that  blessed  an- 
ticipated hour  may  be  near  at  hand. 


To  a  Female  Friend. 

Raleigh,  March  23,  1831. 

My  Dear  Sister  S.  : — I  was  truly  pleased  with 
what  I  beg  leave  to  call  your  "  pious  note." 
Confidence,  whether  reposed  by  a  friend  or  an 
enemy,  should  be  held  sacred  as  our  honor  and 
virtue.  It  is  immaterial  whether  it  be  a  trivial 
or  a  momentous  concern ;  to  betray  it,  is  treachery. 
Whoever  confides  in   me,  does    it    with  the    pre- 


190  REMAINS   OF 

sumption  that  there  it  will  remain  forever,  silent 
as  death ;  if  exposure  be  necessary,  and  the  tale 
need  be  told,  why,  he  could  do  that  himself. 

In  your  case,  however,  my  dear  sister,  there  was 
little  or  no  fault.  You  felt  under  obligations,  with 
your  views  of  my  intentions,  to  mention  it  to  the 
one  you  did.  To  have  made  it  perfectly  correct^ 
you  ought  to  have  suggested  the  necessity  of  my 
consulting  with  him ;  though,  as  time  proved,  I  had 
lliis  in  view  from  the  beginning. 

But  it  is  all  well.  I  know,  novv,  your  views  upon 
the  subject,  and  can  confide  hereafter,  with  less  soli- 
citude. The  acute  sensibility  manifested  at  this 
little  unintentional  error,  gives  but  higher  proofs 
that  your  heart  is  indeed  under  divine  influence. 
I  can  only  say,  cherish  this  heavenly,  this  holy  ten- 
derness of  conscience,  as  among  the  best  boons  of 
God  to  man.  Neither  moral  sensibility  nor  moral 
obligation  can  ever  be  trifled  with,  in  the  smallest 
concerns  of  life,  with  impunity ;  the  first  is  soon 
blunted,  and  the  last  soon  forgotten.  Sin,  in  all  its 
forms,  is  more  dangerous  than  the  "  upas  ;  "  it  is 
spiritual  death  to  come  within  the  circle  of  its  atmos- 
phere. And  would  we,  my  sister,  be  "  holy,  harm- 
less, undefiled,  and  separate  from  sinners,"  we  must 
do  right  in  all  things.  Human  life  is  made  up  of 
"  trifles  ;  "  and  correctness  in  these,  is  the  essence 
of  true  religion.  He  that  is  faithful  in  "  little,"  will 
be  faithful  in  "  much." 


MELVILLE  B.    COX.  191 

I  have  dwelt  on  this  a  moment,  not  because  I 
think  you  fauUy  in  the  past,  but  that  it  may  be  a 
guide  for  the  future.  I  sincerely  love  the  spirit  you 
manifest ;  and  your  kind  attentions,  and  solicitude 
for  my  health,  comfort,  and  happiness,  have  awaken- 
ed feelings  of  friendship,  that  I  trust  vnll  only  die 
with  my  existence. 

I  have  "  prayed  "  for  you.  Will  my  sister  return 
the  favor,  and  believe  me,  most  affectionately,  her 
sincere  but  unworthy  Pastor  in  Christ. 


To  another  Female  Friend. 

Raleigh,  March  26,  1831. 

My  Dear  Sister  H.  : — Let  me  beg  of  your  sister, 
Miss  M.,  through  you,  for  Christ's  sake,  for  her  own 
soul's  sake,  to  let  nothing  divert  her  from  those 
means  which  she  has  already  felt  particularly  bene- 
ficial to  her  spiritual  interest.  This,  possibly,  is  the 
most  eventful  moment  that  she  has  ever  experienced. 
A  trivial  thing,  now,  may  produce  consequences  of 
the  deepest  interest.  A  little  neglect,  or  a  little 
violence  to  the  suggestions  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  may, 
at  last,  leave  her  in  darkness  and  mourning  for 
months.  Would  she  soo7i  find  Christ,  she  must 
press  through  the  crowd,  overcome  obstacles,  deny 
herself  and  take  up  the  cross,   and  cherish  every 


193  REMAINS    OF 

kind  emotion  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  She  must  act 
coiiscientiously,  where,  and  when  she  goes  ;  and  in 
everything  act  according  to  the  best  light  God  has 
given  her. 

I  say  not  these  things,  because  I  wish  her  to  be  a 
Methodist ;  no !  this  is  of  the  least  consequence. 
I  want  her  to  be  a  christian.  I  want  that  her  soul 
shall  know  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  the 
heart  by  experience. 

I  am  sure,  however,  from  my  orni  observation, 
that  for  this  the  Methodist  church  has  more  helps 
than  the  Protestant  Episcopal.  But  let  her  obtain 
religion  ;  there  will  be  quite  time  enough  to  think  of 
the  comparative  merits  of  churches. 

You  will  excuse  my  apparent  concern.  If  I  can 
estimate  my  own  feelings,  it  is  the  eternal  worth  of 
her  soul  that  makes  me  solicitous.  And  I  have 
known  so  many  to  perish  in  the  way,  before  they 
found  Christ,  that  I  am  fearful.  Injudicious  advice 
of  officious  friends,  light  and  trifling  company  or 
conversation,  if  joined  in,  are  as  fatal  to  such  a  one 
as  poison. 


To  another,  on  a  False  Report. 

Raleigh,  Oct.  31,  1831. 

My  Dear  Sister  : — Your  last  was  duly  received. 
I  am  just  as  much  of  an  "  Episcopalian  "  as  you 
axe — just  as  much  of  one  as  I  was  while  with  you — 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  193 

and  that  is,  z.firm.  ^^  Episcopal"  Methodist.  Should 
I  never  meet  with  anything  more  powerful  or  con- 
vincing than  the  "  book  "  alluded  to,  I  presume  I 
shall  be  quite  satisfied  with  either  the  "ordination" 
or  "  burial  service  "  of  the  Methodist  discipline.  I 
do  n't  think  either  of  them  will  condemn  me. 

No  tale,  however  marvellous  or  improbable,  if 
reported  in  North  Carolina,  will  ever  again  surprise 
me ;  and,  should  Providence  make  this  my  residence 
long,  it  will  need  more  than  a  "  story "  well  and 
confidently  told,  to  command  my  confidence  in  any- 
thing true  or  false.  I  think  I  have  never  known 
guess-work,  or  a  "  hope  so,"  so  soon  to  become  a 
plain  matter-of-fact,  as  in  this  state.  It  is  only 
necessary  for  some  one  to  suggest  his  wishes,  sus- 
picions or  hopes,  and  to-morrow  they  are  well  told 
rumors,  and  the  next  day,  facts  of  unquestionable 
authenticity.  This  is  making  "  street-yarn  "  and 
broadcloth  also,  by  the  wholesale,  and  that  too,  with- 
out wheel,  spindle,  loom  or  shuttle. 

Sometimes  I  have  thought,  sister,  that  people 
forget  the  distinction  between  thought  and  action; 
the  one,  by  some  loquacious  individuals,  whose 
tongues  never  rest  long  enough  to  catch  a  long 
breath,  is  mistaken  for  the  other ;  and  what  was 
just  now  only  a  floating  idea  in  the  brain,  in  an  hour 
or  two  is  detailed  with  as  much  assurance  as  if  this 
wayward  thought  had  been  real  action.  How  else 
can  we  account  for  such  monstrous  absurdities, 
such  gross  inconsistencies,  among  those  who  would 
13 


194  REMAINS    OF 

think  themselves  highly  insulted,  if  their  integrity 
was  in  the  least  suspected  ?  Christians  certainly 
will  not  lie.  And  yet  some  who  profess  to  be  such, 
tell  tales,  for  which,  upon  investigation,  you  can  find 
neither  foundation,  superstructure,  nor  top-stone — for 
which  there  is  not  even  the  shadow  of  an  apology. 
Perhaps  phrenology  may  palliate  their  crime,  but  I 
need  not  tell  you,  that  the  Book  of  God  will  write 
on  all  such  "  Mene  Tekel  "  in  the  day  of  eternity. 


To  the  Reverend  Bishop  Hedding. 

Norfolk,  Feb.  22,  1832. 

Eev.  and  Dear  Sir  : — You  may  propose  me  if 
you  please  to  the  Episcopacy,  as  a  missionary  to 
Liberia.  If  you  and  they,  after  advising  with  each 
other,  should  think  me  fitted  for  the  work,  /  loill  gOy 
trusting  in  the  God  of  missions  for  protection  and 
success.  It  may  cure  me — it  may  bury  me.  la 
either  case,  I  think  I  can  say  from  the  heart — "  The 
will  of  the  Lord  be  done."  I  shall  go  without  any 
*'  fear  which  hath  torment ;  "  with  a  cheerful,  nay,  a 
glad  heart. 

In  weighing  the  subject,  the  following  reflections 
have  suggested  themselves  ; 

\.  It  is  my  duty,  sick  or  well,  to  live  and  die  in 
the  service  of  the  church. 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  195 

2.  There  is  a  loud  call  in  Providence,  at  this 
eventful  moment,  for  some  one  to  go  to  Liberia, 
which  ought  and  must  be  heard. 

3.  There  are  some  indications  that  this  voice 
addresses  itself  to  me. 

4.  A  man  in  high  health  would  run  a  far  greater 
hazard  of  life,  humanly  speaking,  than  I  should. 

5.  Though  perhaps  my  health  does  not  warrant 
much  in  expectation,  yet,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  I 
may  do  great  good.  "  The  race  is  not  to  the  swift, 
nor  the  battle  to  the  strong."  There  is  much,  very 
much  to  be  done  in  a  mission  of  the  kind,  which 
would  not  tax  my  voice  at  all. 

Praying  that  God  would  direct  and  give  success 
to  the  enterprise,  I  am,  affectionately,  your  son  in  the 
gospel. 


Philadelphia,  May  7,  18^. 

My  dear  BIother  : — Possibly  this  letter  will  sur- 
prise you.  If  Providence  permit,  between  this  and 
next  fall,  your  son  will  be  treading  on  African  soil. 
The  Episcopacy  have  just  unanimously  agreed  to 
send  me,  as  soon  as  may  be,  as  a  missionary  to  Li- 
beria. I  can  truly  say  it  is  the  most  welcome  ap- 
pointment I  have  ever  received  from  them.  I  shall 
go  with  a  cheerful,  nay,  a  glad  heart.  Already  I 
thirst  to  be  on  my  way — to  know  that  the  winds  of 


196  REMAINS    OF 

heaven  are  wafting'  me  as  the  messenger  of  heaven 
to  those  outcasts  of  the  world.  Though  counted  as 
the  white  man's  cemetery,  to  me  it  has  nothing'  to 
awaken  a  lingering  fear.  Even  a  grave  there  looks 
pleasant  to  me.  If  God  be  with  me,  it  shall  be 
sweet  to  my  soul,  to  be  comforted  in  my  last  hours 
by  redeemed  slaves. 

But  before  I  leave,  I  intend  to  visit  my  beloved 
mother  and  endeared  sister.  Since  my  last,  my 
health  has  not  at  all  improved.  You  must  not  ex- 
pect to  see  anything  like  health  in  me.  I  have  lost 
both  youth  and  health  ;  but, 

"  Thought  still  burns  within." 

If  the  Lord  will,  I  hope  to  be  with  you  in  June. 
In  August,  I  must  be  ready  to  sail  from  Baltimore 
or  Norfolk,  for  Africa.  Let  me  hear  from  you  in 
New  York. 


New  York,  June  13,  1S32. 

My  dear  Brother  : — So  far  as  an  appointment 
from  others,  and  the  fixed  intention  of  myself,  can 
make  it  so,  there  is  now  no  longer  any  uncertainty 
about  my  mission  to  Liberia.  If  God  will,  I  shall 
go  to  Africa.  And  I  assure  you,  my  dear  brother, 
if  I  can  estimate  my  own  feelings  upon  this  subject, 
that  I  had  rather  be  an  humble  missionary  of  the 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  197 

cross  there,  begging  my  bread  from  kraal  to  kraal, 
traversing  its  interminable  deserts  on  a  camel,  or 
sleeping  in  the  tent  of  an  Arab,  than  to  be  the  em- 
peror of  its  millions.  I  perhaps  even  glory  in  the 
honor  of  such  an  enterprise.  Yes,  I  love  its  name. 
Paris  and  London  have  not  half  its  charms.  Pal- 
aces sink  into  insignificance  before  it,  and  the  gay 
and  giddy  court  which  throngs  them,  have  now  far 
less  interest  to  me  than  the  aproned  Bassas.  Libe- 
ria, I  do  truly  believe,  is  to  be  the  "  Land  of  Prom- 
ise," as  well  as  that  of  the  "  liberated  ;  "  not  indeed 
to  myself,  but  to  thousands  of  my  fellow  beings  now 
groaning  under  the  cursed  bonds  of  slavery ;  and  to 
thousands  more,  sitting  in  heathenish  darkness,  it 
must  be  as  the  rising  sun  of  the  gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ.  I  see,  or  think  I  see,  shed  upon  its  burning 
sands,  the  dew  of  heaven  and  the  light  of  God. 
Clouds  from  Europe  and  America,  fraught  with  the 
benevolence  of  thousands,  are  gathering  over  it,  and 
heaven  itself,  with  the  mercy  of  a  God,  is  bending 
to  do  it  good.  This,  brother,  is  not  ideal ;  it  is  not 
ardor's  feverish  view  ;  it  is  literal  and  plain  truth. 
In  my  coolest  moments  upon  this  subject,  I  believe 
all  that  is  beautiful  or  cheering  in  hope,  rational  in 
reason,  or  sustaining  in  faith,  is  blended  in  the  god- 
like enterprise  of  evangelizing  Africa  to  God.  In 
comparison  with  it,  the  conquests  of  kingdoms  or 
worlds  of  wealth,  (with  a  christian,  of  course,)  are 
but  as  vanity.  Indeed,  it  has  something  too  sacred 
in  its  designs,  and  too  lofty  in  its  promise,  to  be 


198  REMAINS    OP 

compared  with  the  pageantry  of  show  or  glitter  of 
gold.  It  has  for  its  object  the  salvation  of  spirits-^ 
of  souls  undying  and  immortal  as  our  own;  and 
heaven  for  its  eternal  reward. 

I  know,  brother,  that  it  hath  its  darker  side.  I 
know  that  he  who  engages  in  the  mission  must  not 
expect  beds  of  down,  sofas  of  ease,  or  tables  of  luxu- 
ry. He  must  be  content  to  bear  the  scalding  rays  of 
a  vertical  sun  ;  to  feed  on  only  an  African  potato,  if 
need  be  ;  to  breathe  the  miasma  of  its  low  lands  ;  to 
meet  a  Nubian  blast ;  and,  perhaps,  to  lay  him  down 
and  die.  But  God's  word  hath  taught  me  that  all 
of  these  can  be  made  the  ministers  of  mercy,  and 
even  joy.  If  God  be  in  the  mission,  a  den  of  lions 
shall  be  a  quiet  home,  or  a  burning  furnace  a  para- 
dise. In  his  hands  pain  is  pleasure  ;  and  privation, 
plenty  ;  yes,  and  Africa  as  America. 

And  if  I  be  the  humble  individual  designated  in 
the  providence  of  God  as  a  missionary  to  this  land 
of  darkness,  my  soul  says,  whether  it  be  the  path  of 
suffering  or  enjoyment,  of  life  or  death,  it  shall  be 
the  joy  of  my  heart  to  go.  Yes,  I  '11  go — go  to  its 
burning  sands, — its  luxuriant  vales, — its  moon  moun- 
tains,— its  clayey  cottages, — and  palaces,  if  such  they 
may  be  called ;  and  I  '11  tell  them  the  story  of  the 
cross.  I  will  tell  them  how  God  hath  loved  them ; 
that  even  they  Avere  not  forgotten  in  the  history  of 
redemption  ;  that  Christ  died  for  them,  that  he  has 
risen  ;  and  that  for  them  he  now  intercedes. 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  199 

And  shall  I  fear,  my  dear  brother,  to  do  this? 
Shall  I  hesitate,  or  go  with  a  reluctant  step  ?  God 
forbid.  And  dear  as  we  are  to  each  other,  will  you 
not  say,  God  forbid  it,  too  ?  I  think  I  love  you ; 
love  her  who  gave  us  birth,  and  her  who  has  so 
often  cheered  our  path  through  life  ; — but  tender  as 
are  these  associations,  /  thirst  to  feel  that  the  loinds 
of  heaven  are  icafting  me  to  that  shore,  I  long  to 
breathe  air  never  inhaled  by  the  christian, — to  be 
within  some  of  their  little  mud  walls,  telling  for 
once  to  heathens,  properly  such,  the  tragedy  of  Cal- 
vary. The  thought,  brother,  is  sioeet  to  my  soul.  I 
think  God  will  be  with  me.  I  think  that  Christ  will 
give  a  power  to  his  own  name  and  truth  there  that  I 
have  never  before  witnessed — a  power  that  devils 
cannot  resist.  And  should  I  be  the  instrument  of 
the  conversion  of  one,  and  should  that  one  become  a 
herald  of  the  cross  to  gather  in  his  thousands,  it  will 
be  enough.  I  can  then  lay  me  down  and  die,  with 
feelings  sweeter  far  "  than  on  softer  bed,"  in  health- 
ier clime. 

Please  to  commend  the  interests  of  the  mission  to 
the  people  of  your  charge.  Enlist  all  the  prayers 
for  it  that  you  can,  especially  the  "  prayers  of  the 
poor  ;  " — prayers  are  better  to  the  missionary  than 
gold,  though  both  are  necessary ;  but  if  the  one  be 
secured,  the  other  will  follow  as  naturally  as  the 
effect  follows  its  cause. 


200  remains  of 

Boston,  July  22,  1832. 

My  Dear  Mother  : — I  have  just  received  your 
very  kind  letter  by  Mr.  Robinson.  It  has  given  me 
both  pleasure  and  pain  ; — pleasure,  that  once  more  I 
have  heard  from  my  dear  mother,  and  for  the  deep 
interest  she  feels  in  a  son's  welfare ; — -pain,  that  she 
should  so  often  seem  to  doubt  his  love  for  her.  Per- 
haps I  have  given  you  reason  to  doubt  it.  If  I  ever 
did,  I  merit  for  it  the  severest  reproof.  Never  did  a 
mother  sacrifice  more  willingly  her  own  happiness 
for  that  of  her  children,  than  have  you.  To  love 
you  for  it,  is  the  least  we  can  do.  But  we  are  all 
imperfect  creatures.  Our  hearts  are  frequently  way- 
ward in  their  love  to  each  other,  as  well  as  in  love 
to  Him  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  all.  But  of 
this  I  am  sure — if  I  have  erred  towards  you,  never 
was  one  more  willing  than  you  to  forgive. 

I  have  been  as  comfortable  since  I  left  you  as  I 
could  expect.  My  mind  is  quite  at  rest  and  in 
peace. 

If  Providence  permit,  I  shall  probably  leave  here 
for  New  York  on  Tuesday.  Give  yourself  no  fur- 
ther anxiety  about  me,  than  affectionately  and  fer- 
vently to  commend  me  and  my  mission  to  God.  He 
reigns.  Amid  sword,  pestilence  or  famine,  all  that 
is  entrusted  to  him  is  safe.  Make  prayer,  my  dear 
mother,  your  only  comfort  in  your  anxiety  for  me  or 
Others.  Quietude  that  is  obtained  here  will  be  both 
substantial  and  abiding.     If  ever  your  heart  should 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  201 

be  troubled  about  me,  go  to  God  ;  tell  him  a  moth- 
er's feelings,  and  renewedly  consecrate  me  to  his 
service,  and  commend  me  to  his  care.  He  is  always 
near,  and  can  at  any  time  feed  me  by  a  raven,  or 
make  the  lion  my  friend. 

One  word  more,  mother.  Suffer  from  a  son  a 
word  of  exhortation.  As  you  go  down  the  hill  of 
life,  see  how  holy  you  can  live.  Get  your  heart  all 
moulded  into  the  spirit  and  temper  of  Christ.  Do 
nothing  but  in  his  fear.  Try  to  be  a  mother  in  Is- 
rael, and  to  persuade  sinners  to  seek  Christ.  Then 
stars  will  gem  your  crown  hereafter. 

Thank  Cousin  Sarah  for  her  postscript.  It  is 
truly  grateful  to  my  feelings  to  be  assured  of  so 
much  kindness  from  friends.  The  Lord  help  me 
to  feel  that  to  him  I  am  indebted  for  all. 

I  wrote  sister  this  morning.  I  do  pray  that  the 
God  of  all  comfort  will  comfort  her.  I  fear  that  she 
is  indulging  in  too  much  feeling  at  my  absence. 
Oh  that  Christ  would  comfort  her  heart,  and  fill  it 
with  his  own  presence.  Her  feeling  upon  this 
subject  I  think  would  be  joy,  a  holy  joy,  that  I  have 
been  counted  worthy  of  the  sufferings  and  pleasures 
attending  such  an  enterprise.  I  would  not  exclude 
tears  from  the  scene,  but  they  should  be  shed  with  un- 
feigned submission  to  God,  and  the  fullest  assurance 
that  all  things  shall  work  together  for  the  good  of 
those  who  sincerely  and  truly  love  God. 

My  love  to  all.  This,  as  all  my  letters  must  be, 
is  written  in  great  haste.  A  kiss  to  the  children, 
and  affectionate  remembrance  to  all. 


202  REMAINS   OF 

Richmond,  Sept.  10,  1832. 

My  Dear  Brother  : — Liberia  is  still  the  burthen 
of  my  thoughts,  and  the  more  I  contemplate  the 
mission,  the  more  sensibly  do  I  feel  a  shrinking" 
from  the  responsibility  of  the  undertaking.  There 
is  a  GREAT  WORK  before  me.  I  see  a  country  stretch- 
ing itself  from  latitude  35  north  to  35  south,  and 
from  longitude  50  east  to  15  west.  It  is  covered 
with  a  population  perhaps  five  or  six  times  larger 
than  the  whole  of  the  United  States.  Degraded 
and  oppressed  as  they  are,  they  are  all  human 
beings,  and  have  souls.  This  were  well ;  but  these 
souls.,  many  of  them,  seem  elevated  but  little  above 
brutes.  They  are  enveloped  in  a  darkness  that  may 
be  felt,  and  sunken  in  a  depravity  that  knows  no 
bounds  but  unrestrained  indulgence,  sottish  ease,  or 
studied  crime.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  insu- 
lated spots,  which  skirt  the  continent,  they  are  "  all 
gone  out  of  the  way  ;  "  they  know  not  God,  nor 
Jesus  Christ  whom  he  hath  sent.  Some  are  bowing 
down  to  "  stocks  and  stones,"  others  to  the  grave  of 
a  false  prophet ;  while  others  are  offering  the  sacri- 
fice of  human  blood.  Added  to  a  heart  "  deceitful 
above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked,"  and  to  an 
ignorance  that  never  saw  pure  light,  they  have  felt 
the  influence  of  all  the  superstitions  which  human 
nature  has  been  capable  of  inventing  for  more  than 
a  thousand  years.  From  what  I  can  glean  from 
its   history,  in  many  places,  Satan   hath  literally 


MELVILLE   B,  COX.  203 

taken  his  seat  among  them,  and  I  doubt  not  he  will 
hold  it  with  the  grasp  of  death. 

But  Satan,  brother,  must  be  dethroned,  and  these 
millions  must  feel  the  force  of  gospel  truth,  and  the 
regenerating  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  They 
must,  ultimately,  '■'■all  be  taught  of  God,"  or  prophecy 
must  fail.  The  Arab  path  from  Timbuctoo  to  Mo- 
rocco, Tripoli  and  Cairo,  must  be  traced  by  the  mis- 
sionary of  the  cross,  and  a  new  one  cut  from  Liberia. 
The  Senegal  and  the  Gambia,  the  Kamaranka  and 
the  St.  Paul's,  must  be  studded  with  christian  sta- 
tions ;  ay,  and  churches  too,  in  which  must  be 
taught  and  sung  the  high  praises  of  God.  The 
Niger  must  be  followed  from  the  mountains  of  Kong 
to  its  little  inland  sea  ;  and  its  path  traced  back  to 
the  Atlantic.  The  Caffrarian  missionaries,  with 
their  Madagascar  and  Good  Hope  brethren,  and  the 
missionaries  at  Sierra  Leone,  must  meet  each  other 
at  Monrovia  ;  and  these,  with  their  associates  at  Mo- 
rocco, Tripoli,  and  Cairo,  must  ultimately  meet  at 
some  common  centre  of  the  whole,  and  together 
sing  the  triumphant  song,  that  "  Africa  is  evangel- 
ized to  God !  "  This,  brother,  is  the  work  before  us. 
The  whole  of  Africa  must  he  redeemed.  "  Who  is 
sufficient  for  these  things  ?  " 

But  great  as  is  this  work,  the  grace  of  God,  with 
or  without  means,  will  soon  accomplish  it.  Happy, 
happy  indeed  is  he  whose  contributions  aid  in  it ; 
thrice  happier  he  who  is  immediately  engaged  in 
the  work.     I  do  not  speak  in  the  dark.     1  knoxo  the 


204  REMAINS    OF 

work  will  be  accomplished.  Prophetic  influence  has 
pledged  us  the  word  of  him  who  wills,  and  it  is  done. 
*'  Ethiopia  shall  stretch  forth  her  hands  to  God," 
and  when  she  crielh,  he  will  hear.  We  have  only 
to  begin  the  work  in  his  name,  and  by  the  spirit  of 
his  grace,  and  such  a  flame  will  be  kindled  from  it, 
as  to  light  all  Africa  with  its  fires.  Yes,  I  repeat  it, 
the  lohole  of  Africa  must  be  redeemed. 

I  know  this  is  strong  language.  It  may  startle 
cold-hearted  moralists.  Their  faith  may  not  pene- 
trate the  dense  forests  of  Africa,  may  not  scan  its 
deserts,  may  not  reach  even  to  its  shores  ;  but  ours, 
with  "  The  Book  "  of  prophecy  in  our  hands,  and 
Christ  in  our  hearts,  can  take  up  mountains — could 
compass  worlds. 

Pray  for  me,  my  dear  brother  ;  not  that  I  may 
have  a  long  life  or  days  of  ease  ;  but  that  I  may  be 
truly  holy — a  "  man  of  God  " — a  representative  of 
Christ  to  a  heathen  world.  Then,  if  I  am  hungry, 
Elijah's  God  will  feed  me ;  if  I  die — alone — the 
God  of  Moses  will  take  care  of  my  body  till  the 
resurrection,  and  take  my  soul  to  himself. 


Free  Town,  Feb.  20,  1833. 

My  Dear  Mother  and  Sister  : — I  am  now  at 
Sierra  Leone.  An  opportunity  offers  by  which  I 
may  drop  you  a  line ;  and  I  should  do  as  much  in- 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  205 

justice  to  you,  as  violence  to  my  own  feelings,  did  I 
not  improve  it. 

We  have  had  a  long  and  tedious  voyage  of  almost 
four  months,  since  we  left  the  Capes  of  Virginia. 
But  I  cannot  now  give  any  of  its  incidents.  The 
earliest  opportunity  after  my  arrival,  they  will 
probably  be  made  public.  This,  however,  I  must 
not  omit ; — I  have  never  been  happier  since  I  first 
drew  breath,  for  the  same  length  of  time,  than  since 
I  left  America.  In  storms  or  in  calms,  in  sickness 
or  in  comparative  health,  my  heart  has  been  greatly, 
greatly  comforted.  God  has  been  with  me.  Never, 
no,  never  was  I  supported  with  such  heavenly  and 
kind  suggestions,  as  while  tumbling  and  tossing  on 
a  world  of  waters.  I  am  sure,  my  dear  mother  and 
sister,  be  the  consequences  what  they  may,  that  I 
am  in  the  path  of  duty.  With  this  I  am  content, 
and  with  this  I  pray  that  you  may  be. 

For  twenty  days,  I  was  dreadfully  sea  sick : — 
indeed,  during  the  whole  voyage  thus  far,  anything 
like  rough  weather  would  nauseate  me.  I  have  just 
sent  on  board  of  a  Bath  ship,  whose  name  I  have 
not  learned,  a  couple  of  very  handsome  native  mats. 
I  have  other  curiosities  which  I  should  be  glad  to 
send,  but  I  must  reserve  them  for  the  mission  in 
whose  service  I  am  engaged.  When  you  hear  from 
me  through  them,  Africa  will  not  seem  that  gloomy 
and  savage  place  which  you  have  been  accustomed 
to  associate  with  its  name. 

For  a  few  days  past  I  have  been  quite  indis- 


206  REMAINS    OF 

posed  ; — have  some  fears  that  I  may  have  my 
"  seasoning  "  before  I  arrive  at  Liberia,  but  I  pray 
constantly  that  I  may  be  kept  from  it  till  then.  If 
all  had  been  as  we  expected,  we  should  have  been 
there  long  since.  Others  I  suppose  will  now  take 
the  ground  before  me.  It  is  well.  The  race  is  not 
to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong. 

I  am  now  far,  far  away  from  you.  I  hope  to  see 
you  again  here,  but  have  a  thousand  doubts  whether 
the  hope  will  ever  be  realized.  But  doubt  not,  if  I 
hold  fast  whereunto  I  have  attained,  that  it  will 
be  well  with  me.  There  remaineth  a  rest  for  me. 
I  have  an  earnest  of  it  within  me,  that  is  sweeter 
than  life,  and  stronger  than  death. 

We  visited  the  Cape  de  Verd  islands,  and  touched 
at  Goree, — the  mouth  of  the  Gambia, — and  have 
been  at  Sierra  Leone  for  three  weeks.  As  yet,  not 
one  of  our  company  has  been  lost.  Sometimes  my 
faith  has  been  such,  that  I  have  thought  we  were  all 
immortal  till  we  arrived  at  Liberia.  The  Lord 
knowelh.  Still  remember  me  in  your  prayers — 
still  strive  for  a  holy  life  and  constant  communion 
with  God. 

You  will  excuse  me  that  I  have  said  nothing  of 
what  my  eye  hath  seen.  I  have  it  all  carefully 
written  down,  but  a  part  of  it  would  spoil  the  beauty 
of  tlie  picture. 

My  clothes,  during  so  long  a  voyage,  have  be- 
come much  damaged.  My  thermometer  was  broken 
in  a  storm.     This,  however,  is  the  only  thing  that 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  207 

has  been  entirely  spoiled.  The  mainspring  of  my 
watch  was  broken  too,  and  here  it  has  cost  me  a 
pound  to  have  it  repaired. 

My  love  to  the  friends  in  general. 

Hope  by  next  arrival  to  hear  what  is  doing  in 
America. 

Kiss  the  sweet  little  children  for  me,  and  remem- 
ber me  with  much  love  to  Mr.  L. 


Monrovia,  (Liberia,)  April  5,  1833. 

My  dear  Mother  : — I  have  one  moment  which  I 
can  steal  from  duties  pressing  beyond  measure,  just 
to  say  to  you  from  this  far-off  land,  that  though  far 
off,  I  cannot  forget  a  kind  and  affectionate  mother. 
I  have  purchased  a  mission-house  at  Monrovia, 
in  which  I  am  now  comfortably  seated.  It  is  a 
small  two  story  house,  the  lower  one  of  stone,  the 
upper  of  wood.  I  am  to  pay  for  it  five  hundred 
dollars,  or  rather  I  am  to  draw  on  the  missionary 
society  for  this  amount.  There  is  connected  with  it 
about  a  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  land,  the  income 
of  which,  by  the  purchase  I  have  made,  will  be 
secured  to  the  society,  so  that  in  fact  the  house  will 
cost  them  nothing. 

I  have  bought  a  table,  a  candlestick,  a  few  cups 
and  saucers,  a  pound  of  tea,  a  kroo  of  rice,  a  few 
mackerel,  borrowed  one  tea  spoon,  a  cot  to  sleep  on, 
and  am  living  on  rice,  morning,  noon  and  night. 


208  REMAINS   OF 

But  I  assure  you  it  eats  sweetly.  We  have  beef, 
mutton,  goat,  and  some  pork  here,  but  they  are  so 
exorbitantly  high,  I  do  n't  choose  to  indulge  myself 
with  them. 

I  will  only  say  of  Liberia,  that  its  promise  will 
justify  any  eflbrt  that  philanthropy  or  religion  can 
make. 

My  health  at  present  is  quite  feeble,  but  I  have 
more  cause  of  gratitude  than  of  complaint.  Most  of 
the  emigrants  who  were  with  me  have  had  the 
fever,  which  thus  far  I  have  escaped. 

I  can  scarcely  realize,  my  dear  mother,  that  I  am 
five  or  six  thousand  miles  from  you.  But  we  shall 
meet  by  and  by.  Neither  of  us  can  be  here  a  long 
while.  God  grant  that  we  may  meet  in  heaven.  I 
have  a  most  pleasant  assurance  that  I  am  on  my 
way  there.  Indeed,  I  have  never  in  my  life  felt 
such  divine  support  from  grace  as  since  I  left  home. 
My  cup  has  been  full,  never  empty.  Give  yourself 
no  care  for  me,  except  to  pray  for  success  in  my 
mission,  and  the  perfection  of  my  nature  in  the  spirit 
and  practice  of  the  gospel. 

I  wrote  sister  from  Sierra  Leone,  and  forwarded 
a  couple  of  mats,  tv»^o  ostrich  eggs,  &c.  One  egg  is 
for  brother,  the  largest  mat  for  sister,  the  other  for 
you.  The  little  money  purses  are  to  be  given  to 
Ann,  Charles,  Melville,  and  Ellen  Margaret. 

Write  me  on  the  reception  of  this,  and  direct  to 
the  care  of  Mr.  Gurley  at  Washington.  I  shall  send 
this  in  the  Jupiter,  by  Mr.  Williams,  a  colored  gen- 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  209 

tleman,  the  vice  agent,  as  he  is  p.opularly  called, 
the  acting  governor  of  the  colony.  He  will  spend 
some  tvi^o  or  three  months  in  the  vicinity  of  Wash- 
ington, and  will  be  pleased  to  take  any  letters  for 
me  forwarded  to  his  or  Mr.  Gurley's  care.  I  have 
written  this  in  great  haste — business  allows  me  no 
more  time.  With  much  love,  I  am,  dear  mother, 
your  affectionate  son. 


COMMISSION. 

Among  the  other  papers  of  Mr.  Cox  we  find  his  Commission, 
of  which  the  following  is  a  copy. 

New  York,  June  22,  1832. 

Dear  Brother  : — As  you  have  been  appointed  a 
Superintendent  of  the  Mission  at  Liberia,  it  is  your 
duty  to  enter  upon  said  mission  with  all  convenient 
and  possible  despatch,  to  take  the  oversight  of  the 
people  within  the  bounds  of  your  mission,  to  do  your 
utmost  to  promote  the  cause  of  God,  by  preaching, 
visiting  from  house  to  house,  establishing  schools, 
instructing  the  children,  and  doing  all  the  duties 
peculiar  to  a  Methodist  preacher,  as  the  Discipline 
directs.  It  is  your  duty  also  to  make  quarterly  re- 
ports to  the  managers  of  the  Missionary  Society  of 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 

Wishing  you  the  blessing  of  God  on  your  labors, 
we  remain  affectionately  yours, 

R.  E.  ROBERTS, 
ELIJAH  HEDDING. 

14 


210  REMAINS   OF 


MISSIONARY   NOTICE. 

The  following  Plea  for  Africa  was  addressed 
to  the  public  in  behalf  of  the^;  Young  Men's 
Missionary  Society  of  New  York,  by  whom 
Mr.  Cox  was  engaged,  and  was  prefixed  to 
the  Letter  from  him,  which  Ave  have  here  also 
concluded  to  preserve  entire,  although  it  com- 
prises a  few  repetitions,  in  details,  of  state- 
ments already  communicated,  partially,  in  the 
other  Letters,  or  in  the  Memoir.  It  is  not  only 
characteristic  of  him,  and  will  therefore  be 
read  with  interest,  but  both  the  Plea  and 
the  Letter  contain  many  valuable  suggestions, 
which  may  prove  of  essential  service  to  any 
that  shall  yet  be  destined  to  follow  in  his  path. 


A   PLEA   FOR  AFRICA. 

The  Young  Men's  Missionary  Society  of  New 
York,  auxiliary  to  the  Missionary  Society  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  having  for  several 
years  directed  their  sole  efforts  toward  introducing 
the  gospel  into  Africa,  and  having  happily  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  the  appointment  of  the  Rev. 
Melville  B.  Cox,  as  the  superintendent  of  that 
mission,   respectfully  and  affectionately  present  to 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  211 

the  public  the  accompanying  Missionary  Report, 
containing  the  latest  and  most  encouraging  informa- 
tion from  our  missionary,  from  the  colony  at  Liberia, 
and  the  adjacent  country.  It  will  serve  to  show  the 
opening  prospects  of  usefulness  before  the  friends  of 
Christ,  and  the  strong  claim  with  which  we  approach 
the  benevolent,  to  plead  for  their  liberality  in  behalf 
of  the  support  of  our  missionary,  in  his  labors  and 
expenditures  for  the  literary  and  religious  improve- 
ment of  the  colonists  now  settled  at  Liberia,  and  the 
native  inhabitants  of  the  coast  as  well  as  the  interior 
of  Africa. 

For  the  entire  support  of  Brother  Cox  and  this 
interesting  mission,  the  Board  of  Managers  of  the 
Young  Men's  Missionary  Society  of  New  York  have 
pledged  themselves  to  the  superintendents  and  the 
parent  board ;  relying  on  the  blessing  of  God  upon 
their  exertions,  and  confidently  expecting  to  share  in 
the  liberality  of  the  christian  public.  They  have 
already  paid  the  expenses  of  his  embarkation,  pas- 
sage, and  a  part  of  his  salary ;  and  they  are  now 
notified  of  a  draft  on  its  way  for  five  hundred  dollars 
for  a  mission-house,  which  has  been  purchased  by 
our  missionary  as  his  place  of  residence  at  Monrovia. 
The  purchase  is  an  eligible  and  economical  one,  and 
is  approved  by  the  board  as  one  highly  important 
and  necessary.  This,  with  other  expenses  incidental 
to  the  formation  of  mission  schools  in  the  several 
settlements,  and  the  extension  of  the  work,  will  call 
for  other  and  additional  funds,  far  beyond  the  present 
available  resources  of  the  board. 


212  REMAINS    OF 

We  believe,  however,  that  "  the  silver  and  gold 
are  the  Lord's,"  and  so  are  "  the  cattle  upon  a  thou- 
sand hills."  And  we  have  full  confidence,  that 
among  the  friends  of  Christ  to  whom  our  appeal 
will  come,  there  is  a  sufficiency  of  zeal  and  liberality 
in  the  blessed  cause  of  missions,  to  induce  them 
promptly  to  come  forward  to  our  help  ;  and  surely 
the  cry  of  Ethiopia  now,  through  this  mission,  em- 
phatically "  stretching  forth  her  hands  unto  God," 
will  be  heard ;  and  the  plea  for  hapless,  degraded, 
forgotten  Africa,  will  not  now  be  made  in  vain. 

Whatever  contrariety  of  views  may  exist  among 
christians,  as  respects  the  claims  and  policy  of  the 
Colonization  scheme,  all  must  agree  that  there  is 
now  opened,  through  the  colony  at  Liberia,  a  "  great 
and  effectual  door  "  for  the  introduction  of  the  gospel 
into  that  dark  and  populous  quarter  of  our  earth. 
None  can  object  to  the  policy  we  pursue,  in  sending 
teachers  and  missionaries,  first  to  the  colony,  then  to 
the  surrounding  country  ;  and  thus  finding  our  way 
into  the  interior  of  the  continent,  with  the  Bible  and 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  Surely  no  christian, 
who  acknowledges  the  obligation  to  send  this  gospel 
to  every  creature,  can  be  an  idle  spectator  of  so  holy 
an  enterprise  as  that  of  evangelizing  the  millions 
who  now  sit  in  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death. 
And  however  long  the  christian  world  has  slum- 
bered over  the  wrongs,  the  oppressions,  and  the 
butcheries  which  have  cursed  the  whole  coast  of 
that  hapless  country, — and  however  long  the  friends 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  213 

of  the  Redeemer  have  forgotten  or  neglected  the 
pagan  tribes  and  nations,  whose  millions  of  deluded 
victims  throng  the  cities  of  central  Africa,  yet  the 
time  has  now  fully  come,  when  we  can  no  longer 
be  innocent  if  we  come  not  up  to  the  "  help  of  the 
Lord,  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty ; " 
but  should  fear,  lest  the  "  bitter  curse  "  which  fell  on 
Meroz  be  our  portion  and  our  desert. 

In  the  name  of  hapless,  benighted,  and  bleeding 
Africa ;  in  the  name  of  the  millions  of  our  wretched 
fellow  beings  who  inhabit  those  deserts  of  supersti- 
tion and  idolatry ;  in  the  name  of  that  God  who 
made  of  one  blood  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  ;  and 
in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  "  by  the  grace  of 
God  tasted  death  for  every  man ;  "  we  now  make 
our  appeal  to  our  fellow  christians  of  every  name, 
and  solicit  their  prompt  and  enlarged  liberality. 
Friends  of  Christ !  Friends  of  Africa !  now  is  the 
time  for  united  and  vigorous  exertion.  If,  with  the 
blessing  of  the  great  Head  of  the  Church,  we  shall 
succeed  in  sustaining  this  mission,  we  may  confi- 
dently anticipate  that  the  gospel,  almighty  as  it  is, 
when  once  introduced,  will  win  its  widening  way 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Indian  Ocean,  from  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope  to  the  Mediterranean.  Yes, 
the  proud  crescent  of  the  arch  deceiver  will  quail 
before  the  standard  of  the  cross  ;  heathen  temples 
and  pagan  deities  will  crumble  before  the  armies  of 
the  Prince  of  Peace  ;  the  accursed  crime  of  man- 
stealing,  with  all  its  enormities,  will  be  annihilated 


214  REMAINS    OF 

forever,  and  Africa,  redeemed,  regenerated,  disen- 
thralled, shall  yet  be  "  the  praise  of  the  whole 
earth." 

Come,  then,  ye  who  love  the  gospel,  and  long  for 
its  promulgation  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  ;  let  the  love 
of  Christ  constrain  you  to  aid  us  by  your  contribu- 
tions and  your  prayers  in  this  great  work.  Brother 
Cox  is  already  in  the  field,  harnessed  for  the  battle  ; 
two  other  missionaries,  with  their  wives,  are  now 
almost  ready  to  embark  as  his  fellow  laborers,  and 
God  has  men  for  missionaries,  and  women  for  teach- 
ers, among  his  people  in  America,  sufficient,  with 
his  blessing,  to  plant  the  standard  and  unfurl  the 
banner  of  the  cross,  at  all  the  points  of  the  coast  and 
of  the  interior,  to  which  our  Brother  Cox's  enlarged 
soul  looks  with  so  much  hope.  And  when  the 
work  of  God  is  thus  begun  by  his  people,  he  will 
raise  up  native  heralds  of  the  cross,  who,  in  their 
own  tongue,  shall  proclaim  the  unsearchable  riches 
of  Christ.  Thus  the  "  gift  of  tongues,"  as  in  ancient 
times,  will  follow  the  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  thus  "  a  nation  may  be  born  in  a  day." 

Finally,  we  would  say  to  all  who  delight  in  doing 
good,  and  wish  to  share  with  us  in  sustaining  this 
African  mission,  that  they  may  forward  their  dona- 
tions or  subscriptions  to  either  of  the  undersigned, 
or,  if  more  convenient,  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bangs,  treas- 
urer of  the  parent  society  at  New  York,  when  they 
will  be  faithfully  appropriated  to  this  noble  object 
Surely  our  brethren  in  the  ministry  and  membership 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  215 

of  our  own  church  will  not  disregard  our  plea ;  and 
the  yoimg  men  we  especially  invite  to  enrol  their 
names  among  our  members,  by  the  payment  of  one 
dollar  annually,  or  ten  dollars  for  a  life-subscrip- 
tion. Perhaps  in  no  way  can  they  more  readily 
and  usefully  serve  our  cause,  than  by  making  their 
ministers,  or  others,  life-members. 

Pray  for  us,  that  the  word  of  the  Lord  may  have 
free  course,  and  be  glorified. 

On  behalf  of  the  Managers  of  the  Young  Men's 
Missionary  Society  of  New  York, 

David  M.  Reese,  M.  D.,  President. 
Gabriel  P.  Disosway,  Cor.  Secretary. 

Louis  King,  Treasurer. 


LETTER  FROM  MR.  COX. 

Dear  Brethren  : — I  am  sure  you  will  join  me 
in  grateful  acknowledgments  to  a  gracious  God  for 
my  safe  arrival  at  Liberia.  It  is  of  his  mercy  I  am 
here.     To  him  be  all  the  praise. 

Of  my  voyage  I  will  here  only  say  it  was  a 
stormy  and  a  long  one.  "We  were  more  than  two 
months  from  coast  to  coast,  and  more  than  four  to 
Cape  Montserado.  But,  thank  God,  we  are  here — 
here  safely.  Though  more  than  two  months  on  the 
coast  before  our  arrival,  not  one  of  our  number  was 
lost  until  we  were  safely  set  on   shore  at  Monrovia. 


216  REMAINS    OF 

Since  then  death  has  taken  one  from  our  company ; 
one  that  was  too  far  gone,  however,  with  the  pulmo- 
nary consumption,  to  have  survived  long  in  any 
climate.  With  this  exception,  we  are  all  as  well  as 
"  new  comers  "  in  general.  Some  have  had  slight 
attacks  of  the  fever,  which,  it  is  said,  all  must  have; 
the  remainder  are  waiting,  some  patiently,  others 
anxiously,  their  seasoning.  For  my  own  part,  I 
have  no  painful  fears  on  the  subject.  God,  I  know, 
has  both  life  and  health  in  his  keeping ; — what  is 
good,  that  will  he  do.  I  have  had  too  many  instances 
of  his  goodness  in  my  rather  lonely  enterprise,  to 
be  at  all  afraid  to  trust  in  him  now. 

In  view  of  much  friendly  advice  that  has  been 
given  me  by  those  better  acquainted  with  the  cli- 
mate than  myself,  I  have  as  yet  do7ie  but  little. 
Thought,  however,  has  not  been  idle.  I  have  been 
planning  and  watching  the  openings  of  Providence, 
and  praying  for  the  direction  of  Almighty  God, 
without  whose  aid  the  best  concerted  plans  and  ut- 
most vigor  of  strength  I  know  are  but  as  ropes  of 
sand.  His  light,  and  his  only,  I  intend  to  follow. 
And  as  Methodism  has  hitherto  been  the  child  of 
Providence,  wherever  established,  so  here  I  trust  it 
will  be  planted  with  his  own  hand.  With  these 
convictions,  and  by  a  train  of  circumstances  which 
I  think  singularly  and  clearly  providential,  I  have 
been  led  to  purchase  a  mission-house  at  Monrovia, 
for  which  I  am  to  pay  five  hundred  dollars.  Though 
I  have  done  it  on  my  own  responsibility,  I  have 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  217 

great  confidence  to  believe  that  you  will  not  only 
approve,  but  commend  the  courage  which  sustained 
me  in  doing  it. 

The  house  was  built  by  the  lamented  Ashmun, 
and  three  lots,  beside  the  one  on  which  the  house 
stands,  were  by  him  assigned  for  missionary  pur- 
poses. At  his  death  he  gave  the  house  in  fee  simple 
to  the  Basle  mission,  and  by  consequence,  on  some 
mutual  agreement  between  them  and  him,  they 
became  possessed  of  the  land  also.  One  of  these 
missionaries  is  now  at  Sierra  Leone  ;  and  hearing 
that  the  house  was  for  sale,  and  presuming,  what 
I  have  found  to  be  true,  that  houses  would  be  rented 
with  much  difficulty,  I  sought  an  interview  with  him, 
and,  after  some  conversation,  proposed  purchasing 
it,  provided,  on  seeing  it,  it  should  suit  the  interests 
of  our  mission,  with  the  understanding,  however, 
that  we  should  become  possessed  of  the  land  also. 

Presuming  that  our  Missionary  Society  has  never 
been  legally  incorporated,  I  shall  take  good  care 
that  the  house  and  premises  are  properly  secured  to 
individual  members  of  the  board  for  the  benefit  of  the 
mission.  For  its  payment  I  shall  draw,  payable 
at  thirty  days  after  sight,  on  the  Young  Men's  Mis- 
sio7iary  Society,  with  the  hope  that  it  may  be  made 
the  occasion  of  a  special  meeting  ;  at  which  perhaps 
a  collection  may  be  lifted  that  will  more  than  cover 
its  amount.  Sure  I  am,  could  they  see  our  colony  as 
it  is  ;  could  they  have  but  one  bird's  eye  view  of 
the  magnitude  of  our  mission,  as  seen  from  Cape 


218  REMAINS   OF 

Montserado,  of  Africa,  and  the  millions  that  are 
perishing  for  the  lack  of  knowledge  in  its  vast  wilder- 
nesses, they  might  take  up  as  many  thousands  as  they 
now  do  hundreds,  in  NewYork  alone.  There  is  not  in 
the  wide  world  such  a  field  for  Missionary  enterprises. 
There  is  not  in  the  wide  world  a  field  that  promises 
to  the  sincere  efforts  of  a  christian  community  a  richer 
harvest.  There  is  not  in  the  wide  world  a  spot  to 
which  Americans  owe  so  much  to  human  beings,  as 
to  this  same  degraded  Africa.  She  has  toiled  for 
our  comfort ;  she  has  borne  a  galling  yoke  for  our 
ease  and  indulgence  ;  she  has  driven  our  plough, 
has  tilled  our  soil,  and  gathered  our  harvests,  while 
our  children  have  lived  in  ease,  and  been  educated 
with  the  fruits  thereof.  Shall  we  make  her  no 
returns  ?  If  she  has  given  to  us  "  carnal  things," 
can  we  do  less  than  return  her  intellectual  and  spirit- 
ual things  ?  God  help  us  to  do  it,  nor  to  think  we 
have  done  enough  until  Africa  is  redeemed. 

What  I  want  to  do. — I  want  to  establish  a  mis- 
sion at  Grand  Bassa,  a  very  promising  settlement, 
about  seventy  miles  to  the  eastward  of  Monrovia.  Our 
church  has  children  already  there  who  have  emi- 
grated from  America.  They  need  our  care — our  in- 
struction. Religion  in  our  colored  friends  from 
home  has  not  been  sufficiently  fortified  with  princi- 
ple, to  withstand  the  temptations  and  to  meet  the 
difficulties,  which  will  necessarily  occur  in  a  land 
of  pagan  idolatry  and  heathen  superstition.  I  have 
thought,  too,  that  through  them  perhaps  the  gospel 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  219 

might  be  the  more  readily  communicated  to  the 
natives  around  them.  Added  to  this,  the  place  is 
very  easy  of  access,  is  better  suited  to  the  interests  of 
agriculture  than  perhaps  any  settlement  yet  made  in 
the  colony ;  and  the  natives  are  said  to  have  a  strong 
desire  to  learn,  and  to  be  possessed  of  much  more 
than  ordinary  innocency  and  docility  of  character. 

I  have  already  engaged  a  person  to  build  a  small 
house  and  a  cane  or  log  church  near  the  centre  of 
the  settlement ;  the  whole  of  which  will  cost  perhaps 
one  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred  dollars,  over 
thirty  of  which  I  have  already  advanced.  The 
governor  has  kindly  offered  an  acre  of  land  to  build 
them  on,  which,  of  itself,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years, 
will  cover  the  expense. 

A  mission  of  still  greater  importance  I  propose  to 
establish  at  or  near  to  Grand  Cape  Mount,  about 
fifty  miles  to  the  windward.  As  you  will  perceive, 
we  intend  to  line  the  coast.  And  I  do  pray  that  it 
may  be  with  such  a  moral  power  as  shall  effectually 
put  a  stop  to  the  cursed  practice  of  slave-stealing, 
which  I  regret  to  say  is  still  carried  on  between  this 
and  Sierra  Leone,  and  between  that  and  the  Gambia. 
As  yet  no  colonists  have  settled  there,  but  the  king 
is  exceedingly  anxious  for  a  missionary  who  will 
teach  his  children  "  Book,"  and  the  natives  are 
represented  as  being  far  more  intelligent  than  at  any 
place  under  the  protection  of  the  colony.  The  spot, 
from  appearances  as  I  passed  it,  and  from  represen- 
tation, I  should  think  healthier  than  this ;  and,  as  a 


220  REMAINS    OF 

mission  for  the  instruction  of  natives,  ofTers,  in  my 
view,  greater  advantages  than  any  place  south  of 
Sierra  Leone. 

I  shall  employ  my  own  time  for  the  present  in 
visiting  the  difTerent  stations,  learning  and  arranging 
some  one  of  the  native  languages,  establishing  and 
visiting  the  schools,  and  preaching  as  my  health  will 
permit. 

The  "  Myrick  Mission"  must  be  established  at 
Sego,  on  the  Niger.  And  there  is  no  place  to  which 
I  shall  look  for  happier  results  than  from  this  far- 
famed  river.  I  had  fixed  on  Sego  as  a  place  for 
missionary  exertion  before  I  received  brother  Hall's 
letter,  mentioning  your  intentions.  It  is  in  the  very 
heart  of  Africa. 

To  get  there  we  must  ascend  the  Gambia  as  far 
as  Tenda,  whence  it  is  but  about  ten  days'  walk. 
There  is  a  factory  at  Tenda,  and  before  we  arrive, 
there  will  be  another  at  Sego,  owned  by  Mr.  Grant, 
an  English  merchant  at  Bathurst.  He  is  A'^ery 
friendly  to  Methodism.  I  am  personally  acquainted 
with  him,  and,  if  the  board  desire  it,  I  will  meet 
the  missionary  selected  for  this  spot,  at  the  Gambia 
or  here,  and  accompany  him  to  Sego,  see  him  well 
settled,  and  return.  I  am  also  personally  acquainted 
with  the  governor  at  Gambia,  with  several  of  the 
merchants,  and  trust  that  my  visit  there  left  a  favor- 
able impression  on  the  community  in  general. 
Either  or  all,  I  am  sure,  will  afford  every  facility  in 
their  power  to  promote  the  interests  of  both  learning 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  221 

and  religion  in  the  benighted  region  with  which 
they  are  surrounded. 

In  selecting  a  man  for  this  station,  in  particular, 
great  care  w'ill  be  necessary.  Do  not  send  a  boy, 
nor  one  whose  character  is  unformed  or  unsettled. 
He  will  be  exposed  to  many  privations,  hardships, 
and  temptations  ;  and  beside,  Africans  pay  almost 
as  much  deference  to  age  as  did  the  Jews  anciently. 
Send  one  well  acquainted  with  Methodism,  and  one 
well  ^acquainted  with  theology  in  general.  Added 
to  these  and  to  all  those  tempers,  self-sacrifice  and 
deep  devotion,  which  should  characterize  all  mission- 
aries, it  would  be  well  if,  before  he  leaves,  he  would 
devote  a  few  months,  at  least,  to  the  study  of  the 
Arabic  language.  He  will  be  there  constantly  com- 
ing in  contact  with  Mohammedans,  and  a  knowledge 
of  Arabic  would  very  much  exalt  him  in  their  esti- 
mation. And  though  others  seem  to  think  the 
conversion  of  these  next  to  an  impossibility,  I  know 
of  no  other  class  to  which  I  would  sooner  go  with 
the  story  of  the  cross  for  success,  than  to  these  same 
sons  of  the  prophet.  They  have  now  some  know- 
ledge of  God,  and  their  absurdities  would  soon  yield 
to  truth.  Difficulties  would  no  doubt  occur  at  first ; 
but  once  gain  access,  and  you  have  the  whole  mass 
— a  mighty  host — at  command — and  more  intellect 
than  perhaps  can  be  found  in  the  same  number  of 
souls  in  all  uncivilized  Africa. 

Schools. — I   wish  to  connect  with  each  of  the 
Tiissions  named,  a  small  school,  at  first  to  be  under 


222  REMAINS   OF 

the  immediate  tuition  of  the  missionary  ;  afterward, 
as  the  labors  of  the  station  may  increase,  to  be 
under  a  regular  teacher.  I  scarcely  need  say,  that 
in  all  uncivilized  countries  but  little  progress  can  be 
made  in  religion  or  learning,  unless  they  go  hand  in 
hand  ;  as  soon  as  we  can  speak  to  them,  appeal  to 
the  heart,  but  let  it  be  sustained  by  another  to  the 
head. 

A  school  of  greater  importance  than  all  these  I 
wish  to  establish  somewhere  near  Monrovia,  Cald- 
well, or  Millsburg — a  school  that  shall  be  properly 
academical  as  well  as  "  primary."  For  my  model 
I  have  selected  the  Maine  Wesleyan  Seminary. 
The  object  will  be  to  unite,  under  one  roof,  religion, 
art,  science,  and  industry.  This  is  just  what  Africa 
needs.  It  struck  me  with  great  force  on  my  passage 
here,  and  observation  on  the  coast  has  but  strength- 
ened the  conviction.  Nothing,  I  am  sure,  short  of 
something  of  this  kind  can  meet  wants  such  as  are 
here  found.  The  natives,  of  course,  have  no  habits 
of  well  directed  industry ;  they  know  but  little  of 
agriculture,  and  everything  like  art  is  done  at  im- 
mense labor, — and  these  all  come  within  the  pur- 
view of  our  mission.  If  we  christianize  them, — if 
the  one  could  be  done  without  the  other, — and  have 
them  mingle  with  the  common  herd,  we  shall  spend 
our  strength  for  nought.  They  must  be  both  chris- 
tianized and  civilized  before  our  work  will  be  well 
done. 


MELVILLE   B.  COX.  223 

The  great  difficulty  in  instructing  the  natives  here 
has  been  to  keep  them  entirely  from  native  influence. 
For  the  want  of  this  much  labor  has  been,  if  pos- 
sible, Avorse  than  lost.  For  this  evil  the  seminary 
proposed  will  be  a  sovereign  remedy.  It  is  intended 
that  all  the  natives  who  may  attend  it  shall  be  bound 
to  the  society  until  they  are  eighteen  and  twenty-one 
that  they  in  particular  shall  become  properly  "  insti- 
tution scholars."  Half  of  their  time  will  be  devoted 
to  manual  labor,  the  remainder  to  study.  With  a 
seven  or  ten  years'  course  like  this,  hahit,  to  say 
nothing  of  religion,  will  become  nature,  and  the  mind 
too  well  enlightened  and  disciplined,  and  the  taste 
and  feelings  too  much  refined,  not  to  revolt  at  the 
thought  of  retrograding  to  its  former  barbarism. 
But,  should  God  in  mercy,  as  we  doubt  not  he  will, 
bless  the  scholars  with  a  saving  knowledge  of  Christ, 
they  might  then  be  trusted  anywhere,  and  many 
among  them  would  no  doubt  be  raised  up  as  able 
ministers  of  the  New  Testament,  who  would  go 
forth  into  the  wildernesses,  whence  they  had  been 
gathered,  weeping,  bearing  precious  seed. 

Moreover,  the  interests  of  the  colony,  in  the  most 
emphatic  manner,  require  such  an  institution.  It  is 
not  enough  that  one,  two,  or  a  dozen  well-educated 
colored  men  are  sent  from  America,  though  we 
have  not  now  one-third  of  that  number.  Parents 
want  something  here  to  which  they  can  look  for  an 
education  for  their  children,  that  will  fit  them  for 
everything  useful  in  business,  and,  if  desired,  all  that 


224  REMAINS    OF 

is  necessary  as  preparatory  to  a  regular  collegiate 
course.  The  wants  of  Africa,  as  a  whole,  call  for 
it.  The  safety  of  gospel  doctrines  and  gospel  insti- 
tutions calls  for  it.  At  present,  the  intellectual  are 
more  pressing,  if  possible,  than  even  the  moral 
wants  of  the  colony. 

There  is  too,  I  am  glad  to  say,  among  the  colo- 
nists in  general,  especially  in  the  late  Charleston 
expedition,  an  ardent  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  a 
strong  desire  for  an  institution  of  the  kind  named. 
In  conversing  a  few  days  since  with  a  pious  mechanic 
upon  this  subject — "I  would,"  said  he,  "  willingly 
give  a  year's  labor  for  a  year's  instruction." 

Schools  and  colleges  to  educate  them  in  America 
will  not  answer  our  wants.  We  need  to  breathe 
and  to  feel  the  atmosphere  of  such  instructions  here. 
It  would  awaken  a  still  deeper  thirst  for  learning. 
It  would  arouse  much  in  intellect  that  is  now  as  dor- 
mant as  inert  matter,  excite  a  laudable  emulation, 
and  secure  the  education  of  many  a  promising  youth 
here,  whose  genius  and  talents  might  otherwise  be 
unknown. 

The  teachers  of  this  institution  should  be  white 
men,  at  least  the  principal.  There  are  now  no 
white  teachers  here,  nor  any  white  preachers,  ex- 
cept Mr.  Pinney  and  myself.  Whether  or  not  he 
will  locate  in  the  interior,  I  cannot  tell. 

To  establish  a  seminary  of  this  kind,  I  know  will 
cost  money.  But  at  this  moment,  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars might  very  easily  be  raised  for  such  a  purpose. 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  225 

Let  an  agent  be  appointed  for  the  work,  whose  sole 
duty  shall  be  to  travel  and  take  up  collections  for 
it  for  one  year,  and  I  should  be  almost  willing  to 
become  responsible  for  the  balance  that  might  be 
necessary. 

The  religious  state  of  the  colony  I  must  defer  for 
a  future  communication.  My  mind  is  too  much  bur- 
dened with  the  care  of  properly  organizing  the 
church,  of  regulating  the  Sabbath  school,  and  of 
settling  some  difficulties  which  occurred  before  my 
arrival ;  and  perhaps  I  have  not  sufficiently  caught 
the  spirit  of  the  times  to  do  it  accurately. 

I  cannot  close  this  without  mentioning  that  I  am 
much  indebted  to  the  Wesleyan  missionary  at  the 
Gambia;  also  those  at  Sierra  Leone;  nor  would  it 
be  just  to  omit  the  names  of  the  Rev.  Messrs. 
West,  Raban,  Metzger,  Graham  and  Kissling,  of  the 
Church  of  England.  From  them  I  derived  many  of 
the  facts  in  the  few  "  sketches  "  I  have  made.  Mr. 
West,  the  chaplain  of  St.  Mary's,  in  particular,  in 
addition  to  his  christian  courtesy  to  myself,  just  be- 
fore I  left  him,  handed  me  a  purse  of  about  twenty 
dollars,  to  be  distributed  among  our  emigrants. 

I  will  only  add,  that  I  believe  our  mission  to  be 
admirably  timed.  Earlier  might  have  been  fatal — 
later,  the  ascendency  lost.  The  field  is  wide,  and 
I  believe  ripe  for  the  sickle.  Should  our  lives  and 
health  be  preserved,  you  may  calculate  on  a  success 
that  will  justify  any  effort  in  sustaining  the  mission, 
which  religion  or  humanity  can  make. 
15 


REMAINS    OF 


THE   RESPONSIBILITY  OF  THE   SACRED 
OFFICE. 

A   SERMON,    BY   MR.    COX. 
Wo  is  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel. — 1  Cor.  ix.  16. 

A  CONSCIOUSNESS  of  what  is  our  duty,  and  an  assur- 
ance that  we  are  following  its  dictates,  are  necessary 
to  the  efficient  and  proper  discharge  of  any  office  of 
a  moral  nature,  but  above  all  things,  that  of  the 
gospel  ministry.  To  enter  upon  anything  with  the 
fearful  uncertainty  that  we  maij  be  WTong,  is  always 
painful — painful  in  proportion  to  the  strength  of 
our  doubts,  and  the  importance  of  the  enterprize  in 
which  we  are  engaged.  And  whoever  undertakes 
anything  involving  interests  of  an  eternal  nature, 
with  feelings  of  this  character,  w^ill  suffer  an  anxiety, 
a  fearfulness,  that  must  embarrass  every  effort,  and 
paralyze  all  the  energies  of  the  soul ;  or  wdiat  is 
worse,  perhaps,  induce  a  stupidity  which  is  less 
alive  to  a  delicate  sense  of  moral  obligation  than  the 
stoicism  of  a  heathen  philosopher. 

Confidence,  right  or  \VTong,  never  fails  to  arm  the 
soul  with  an  energy  and  fortitude  which  doubt  never 
feels.      But  when  this  confidence  is   humble    and 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  227 

well  founded ;  when  it  is  the  result  of  internal  con- 
viction, and  the  evidence  of  divine  truth  ;  when  sug- 
gested by  sacred  and  holy  impressions,  of  clearly  a 
divine  character,  opposition  is  in  vain.  Vain  are 
the  bugbears  of  a  morbid  sensibility,  the  solicitude 
of  friends,  the  threats  of  persecution,  and  even  the 
strong  ties  of  endeared  love.  The  soul,  under  the 
deep  sense  of  a  "  thus  saith  the  Lord,"  rises  supe- 
rior to  them  all.  As  duty  is  paramount  to  indul- 
gence, it  follows  its  paths  at  any  and  every  haz- 
ard, with  the  manly  fortitude  which  belongs  to 
virtue.  The  funeral  pile  startles  it  not.  It  fears 
not  a  premature  grave.  The  only  inquiry  is — "  Is  it 
duty  ?  " 

On  this  subject  the  apostle  Paul  felt  no  hesi- 
tancy. He  kneio  what  his  calling  was ;  and  he  knew 
the  fearful  woes  that  rested  on  a  desecration  of  it, 
by  an  unfaithful  steward.  A  "  necessity  "  had  been 
laid  upon  him  ;  yea,  wo  was  unto  him,  if  he 
preached  not  the  gospel. 

From  this  touching  expression  of  the  great,  the 
holy  and  untiring  apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  we  may 
gather  the  following  sentiments  : 

1.  The  call  of  the  true  minister  of  God  is  an  im- 
perative one.  It  cannot  be  dispensed  with.  It  is  not 
for  man  to  lay  it  down  or  take  it  up  at  his  pleasure. 
It  is  an  obligation  imposed  wholly  and  solely  by  the 
Master.  His  call  is  not  of  that  convenient  character 
which  could  be  put  behind  a  counter,  or  hidden  in  a 
corn-field,  at  the  pleasure  of  the  steward.     It  is  the 


228  REMAINS   OF 

plain,  positive  command  of  God,  made  applicable  by 
the  Holy  Ghost  to  a  particular  individual.  And 
who  dares  reject  it,  does  it  at  the  peril  of  his  soul. 
On  this  subject  the  call  of  Moses  furnishes  an  in- 
structive piece  of  history.  The  mere  murmurs  of 
his  heart  were  followed  by  the  fearful  displeasure  of 
a  God.  The  case  of  Jonah  stands  out  in  still 
stronger  relief.  And  with  these  before  us,  who  will 
dare,  in  this  respect,  to  imitate  their  example  ? 
When  our  equals  command,  it  is  ours  to  obey  or 
disobey  ;  but  when  God  speaks — to  a  worm — it  must 
be  done,  or  our  account  must  be  associated  with 
"  wo  is  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel."  Nay, 
my  brethren,  when  God  calls  a  man  into  the  minis- 
try, he  will  curse  him  if  he  obeys  not  the  call. 
Through  life,  he  will  mourn  over  a  cold  heart,  a 
barren  soul,  if  not  a  useless  life  ;  and  possibly,  in 
misery  at  last,  will  look  up  and  remember  the  fear- 
ful sentence — "  I  called,  but  ye  have  refused."  It 
is  a  fearful  thing  to  trifle  with  a  known,  special,  and 
positive  command  of  God. 

2.  The  second,  and  perhaps  the  most  important 
suggestion  seems  to  be,  that  motives  of  a  higher 
character  than  anything  earthly  always  influence 
the  minister  of  God. 

This,  probablJ^  in  part,  is  the  true  import  of  the 
text.  The  apostle  had  proved,  by  an  appeal  to  the 
usages  of  men  in  the  different  vocations  of  life,  to 
the  law  of  Moses,  and  to  reason,  that  if  he  had 
sowed  unto  the  Corinthians  "  spiritual  things,"  he 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  229 

was  entitled  to  a  reward  of  their  "  carnal  things." 
He  had  shown  from  experience  that  the  soldier 
bared  not  his  bosom  to  the  storm  at  his  own  charge, 
that  he  that  planted  ate  of  the  fruit,  that  the  faithful 
ox,  who  threshed  the  corn,  should  not  be  muzzled, 
and  that  the  priests  "  who  ministered  about  holy 
things,  lived  of  the  things  of  the  temple."  But  all 
this,  whether  believed  or  disbelieved,  practised  or 
neglected,  lessened  not  his  obligation  to  preach  the 
gospel.  Both  the  duty  and  responsibility  of  others 
belonged  to  themselves ;  and  whether  faithful  or 
unfaithful  in  the  discharge  of  it,  it  could  have  no 
possible  connection  with  his  commission  to  preach 
the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ.  A  necessity  had 
been  laid  upon  him,  and  whether  done  at  the  stake 
or  in  prison — in  perils  by  land  or  sea — in  sickness 
or  in  health — whether  he  starved  in  poverty  or 
waded  in  wealth — it  must  be  accoinplished.  Wo  was 
unto  him  if  he  preached  not  the  gospel.  God  had 
commissioned  him  ;  and  it  was  not  his  duty  to  wait 
and  inquire  what  would  be  the  reward  of  his  ser- 
vices. He  pointed  out  ^Aeer  duty  clearly ;  but  was 
careful  to  show  them  that  it  interfered  not  with  the 
discharge  of  his  own.  No,  my  brethren,  earth, 
with  all  its  wealth  and  its  pleasures,  had  no  part  in 
those  motives  which  moved  the  apostle  to  take  upon 
him  this  most  fearful  of  responsibilities.  A  divine 
impress  had  written  it  on  his  heart,  and  interwoven 
it  in  his  very  nature  ;  and  the  "  record  of  the  Lord  " 
had  become  as  "  fire  in  his  bones."     He  could  not 


230  REMAINS    OF 

forbear ;  he  must  speak  to  be  refreshed ; — speak — or 
perish  himself.  His  was  "  to  do,  or  die."  When 
sacrifices  were  called  for,  they  must  be  made,  or  an 
apology  found  in  the  absolute  weakness  of  human 
infirmity,  or  an  insufficiency  of  grace  to  sustain  him 
in  the  effort.  He  felt  all  that  unspeakable  weight 
of  responsibility  which  the  sincere  minister  of  God 
feels,  when,  standing  as  it  were,  in  the  immediate 
presence  of  a  holy  God,  he  sees  a  hell  opened,  and 
myriads  of  his  fellow  beings  hurrying  themselves 
into  it,  while  heaven  yearns  with  compassion  at 
their  madness  and  folly.  TTie  sword  of  justice  was 
unsheathed  before  him.  An  angry  God,  just  ready 
to  cut  the  brittle  thread,  stood  arrayed  in  a  purity 
at  which  iniquity  or  guilt  could  not  look  ;  the  time 
of  probation  almost  out,  and  he  bidden  to  hasten  the 
sinner  to  Christ,  before  the  storm  burst  in  its  terrible 
wrath  upon  them  !  And  do  you  think  he  would 
stop  to  weigh  wealth — to  count  dollars  ?  No,  my 
brethren  !  Nothing  short  of  the  things  of  an  eternal 
nature,  for  a  moment,  tempted  the  apostle  to  take 
upon  himself  this  high  and  holy  calling. 

3.  Thirdly,  my  brethren,  this  may  suggest  to  us 
the  soundness  and  importance  of  a  call  to  the  min- 
istry. Anything  which  has  such  consequences  as 
are  uttered  in  this  touching  expression,  could  be  of 
no  trivial  character ;  and  wo  must  be  indeed  to  that 
man  who  trifles  with  it.  We  are  assured  of  a 
hearty  response  from  all  whom  we  address,  when 
we  say,  there  is  nothing  this  side  of  heaven  and 


MELVILLE    B.    COX.  231 

hell,  in  which  man  can  engage,  of  such  deep  inter- 
est in  its  labors,  such  fearfulness  in  its  accounta- 
bility. The  professions  of  law  and  literature,  how- 
ever great  and  good,  sink  into  insignificance  when 
compared  with  it.  What  is  the  labor  of  science,  to 
that  of  saving  souls  ?  What  the  responsibility  of 
him  who  pleads  for  the  life  of  a  criminal,  to  that  of 
him  who  is  the  advocate  of  immortal  spirits  ?  You, 
my  brethren,  are  physicians  of  undying  exertions — 
watchmen  of  God  !  Contemplate  it  in  whatever 
light  we  may,  eternity,  with  which  all  its  duties  are 
associated,  gives  an  eternity  of  consequences  to  all 
its  obligations.  The  apostle  felt  it  so,  when,  with 
all  his  greatness  to  perform,  willingness  to  suffer, 
and  fortitude  to  endure,  he  tremblingly  inquired — 
"  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?  "  My  God  ! 
if  such  were  the  feelings  of  Paul,  what  should  be 
those  of  worms  like  us  ! 

But  to  dwell  on  this  part  of  our  subject  a  moment 
longer  : — It  is  important  in  its  labor.  All  that  is 
acute  in  intellect,  strong  and  comprehensive  in 
grasp  of  thought,  bold  in  conception,  or  touching  in 
expression,  may  here  find  calls  for  the  exertion  of 
every  power.  Though  in  its  essentials  it  is  com- 
prehended by  an  ordinary  capacity,  it  has  depths 
that  human  intellect  can  never  fathom,  and  heights 
that,  but  for  an  infinitely  wise  economy  in  our 
natures,  would  make  giddy  the  strongest  thought. 
Here,  nothing  that  is  worthy  in  science,  in  expe- 
Tience,  or  in  observation,  need  pall  upon  the  mind 


232  REMAINS    OF 

for  the  want  of  use.  The  good  man  will  find  am- 
ple field  for  the  exercise  of  soul,  body  and  spirit. 
Here  the  strongest  constitution  may  tire  itself.  A 
Summerfield,  with  all  his  taste,  eloquence,  and 
touching  sensibility,  may  make  himself  a  martyr. 
Though  fashioned  of  brass  or  steel,  I  need  not  tell 
Methodist  preachers,  that  our  lungs  may  wear  out. 

And  it  is  not  for  us  to  mark  the  ground  of  our 
labors.  Sodoms  must  be  preached  to,  as  well  as 
Jerusalems ;  Rome  as  well  as  her  "  meaner  cities." 
Felix  must  be  reasoned  with  until  he  trembles,  and 
his  humble  valet  by  his  side  made  to  embrace  the 
religion  of  Jesus.  Your  commission  embraces  a 
world ;  and  a  world  of  human  beings ;  and  to  all 
must  the  gospel  be  preached.  If  our  field  of  labor 
be  poor,  we  must  make  it  rich.  It  is  for  the  minis- 
ter to  make  fruitful  fields  of  wildernesses.  It  is  for 
him  to  pluck  up  the  thorn,  and  plant  the  rose  in  its 
stead — to  turn  prisons  to  chapels — hells  to  heavens. 
Following  our  Master  at  an  humble  distance,  we 
must  go  otit  "into  the  highways  and  hedges" — 
into  the  abodes  of  wretchedness  and  poverty  ;  for 
the  poor  must  have  the  gospel  preached  to  them. 

When  I  hear  inquiries  for  the  better  stations  and 
circuits,  I  cannot  but  fear  that  a  measure  of  the  spirit 
of  the  Master  is  lost.  Thus  did  not  Christ ;  and  the 
servant  should  not  be  above  his  Lord.  Wherever 
poverty,  sickness  and  death  were  to  be  found,  there 
was  Christ.  He  did  not  neglect  the  rich ;  but  he 
did  not  feast  upon  their  luxuries,  while  he  should 


MELVILLE  B.  COX.  233 

have  been  administering  consolation  to  the  afflicted, 
bereaved  and  desolate. 

And  this,  my  brethren,  is  the  spirit  of  our  holy  re- 
ligion. Oh  !  what  fearful  searchings  will  be  awak- 
ened by  that  stern  appeal  to  fact  by  the  Judge  of 
the  world — "  I  was  an  hungry,  and  ye  gave  me  no 
meat,  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  no  drink,  sick  and  in 
prison,  and  ye  visited  me  not."  And  how  think  ye, 
my  brethren?  Will  the  consciences  of  all  who  have 
stood  in  the  high  and  holy  place  feel  no  inquietude 
in  that  day?  O  God  !  if  in  indulgence  we  have  for- 
gotten the  distressed,  forgive  us. 

But  if  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  is  thus  impor- 
tant in  its  labor,  it  is  more  so  in  its  responsibility. 
Whatever  is  precious  is  committed  to  your  care. 
You  are  bearers  of  life  or  death.  Yours  is  the  sal- 
vation or  damnation  of  immortal  spirits.  Souls,  un- 
dying as  eternity,  are  committed  to  your  charge  ; 
and  their  blood  will  be  required  at  your  hands. 
Eternity — an  eternity  of  consequences — associates 
itself  with  all  you  say  or  do.  An  influence  you 
must  exert — your  words  and  actions  will  kill  or 
make  alive.  Ah,  my  God  !  "  who  is  sufficient  for 
these  things  ? "  What  wonder  at  the  complain- 
ings of  the  prophet — "  I  am  a  child,  and  cannot 
speak." 

Hear  what  the  Lord  of  all  says — "  Son  of  man,  I 
have  made  thee  a  watchman  ;  if  thou  cease  to  warn 
the  wicked,  his  blood  will  I  require  at  thy  hand." 
0  sinner,  hear  me  now.     I  may  never  address  thee 


234  REMAINS    OF 

again.  Be  this  as  it  may,  in  the  name  of  God,  I 
charge  thee  to  escape  for  thy  life. 

If  this,  then,  be  our  fearful  responsibility,  should 
not  the  minister  of  God  feel  the  weight  of  his  mis- 
sion ? 

We  may  talk  of  a  mere  school-boy's  being  a  min- 
ister ;  but  I  need  other  evidence  to  believe  it.  A 
college-hall  never  made  one  so  yet ;  and  wo  will  be 
unto  him  who  has  dared  to  presume  it.  A  man 
who  feels  not  upon  this  subject,  is  either  ignorant — 
totally  ignorant  of  the  guilt  or  consequences  of  sin — 
or  more  stoical  than  adamant.  In  either  case,  he 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  pulpit.  Christ  wept  over 
Jerusalem.  "  Oh  !  that  my  head  were  waters,  that 
I  might  weep  day  and  night  for  the  slain  of  the 
daughter  of  my  people,"  said  Jeremiah.  "Rivers 
of  water,"  saith  the  Psalmist,  "  run  down  mine 
eyes,  because  men  make  void  thy  law."  Nor  was 
Paul  less  sensitive  upon  this  subject.  Heaven  wit- 
nessed that  he  warned  from  house  to  house  with 
tears. 

But  it  is  not  the  condition  of  man  and  the  nature 
of  sin  only,  that  awaken  his  feelings.  He  knows 
who  has  commissioned  him.  He  feels  that  he  is  a 
moral  and  accountable  being.  He  is  tremblingly 
alive  in  the  acute  moral  sensibility  which  observes 
the  most  delicate  shade  of  obligation.  He  cannot, 
he  dare  not,  trifle — with  heaven — with  hell.  What ! 
shall  we  mock  God  with  jests,  and  jokes,  in  the 
pulpit  ?  with  the  tinsel  show  and  drapery  of  man  ? 


MELVILLE   B.  COX,  235 

Other  things  than  these,  my  brethren,  actuate  the 
true  minister  of  God.  His  object  is  to  save  souls. 
And  whether  in  the  desk  or  drawing-room,  by 
the  cottage  fireside  or  in  the  palace,  he  remembers 
his  calling.  It  is  written  too  deeply  on  the  heart  to 
be  forgotten  or  neglected.  A  "  necessity  is  laid 
upon  him ;  "  wo  is  unto  him  if  he  preaches  not  the 
gospel. 

And  it  was  this  "  wo,"  and  this  "  necessity,"  that 
urged  a  "Wesley  from  place  to  place,  until  three 
kingdoms  trembled  beneath  his  moral  influence  ; 
that  led  an  Asbury  through  the  wilds  of  America, 
and  a  Coke  across  the  pathless  deep  ;  that  armed  a 
Whitefield  with  that  power  and  pathos  before  which 
thousands  fell.  And  it  was  this  acute  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility that  urged  on  the  apostles,  while  suffer- 
ing in  sheep-skins  and  caves — in  perils  by  land  and 
sea — and  worse  than  all,  in  perils  among  false 
brethren. 

And  to  this  I  verily  believe  we  may  attribute 
much  of  the  success  which  has  so  eminently  at- 
tended our  ministry.  A  poor  ploughman,  with  a 
trembling  sense  of  his  accountability  to  God,  will 
accomplish  more,  in  building  up  Christ's  kingdom, 
than  a  Demosthenes  could  if  destitute  of  it. 

But  further — This  subject  may  show  the  impor- 
tance of  a  sacred  regard  for  divine  truth — for  the 
doctrines  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  Wo  is  unto 
me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel.  He  who  goes  with 
a  "  burthen  of  his  own,"  or  a  "  vision  of  his  o^vn 


236  REMAINS    OF 

heart,"  or  amuses  his  hearers  with  the  idle  specu- 
lations of  philosophy,  with  uncertainty  and  conjec- 
ture, instead  of  sober  truth,  has  greatly  mistaken 
the  nature  of  his  calling.  These  he  should  leave  to 
dreamers  and  moralists.  His  business  is — to  preach 
the  gospel ;  to  give  himself  "  wholly  to  the  work  ;"  to 
show  himself  a  "  v/orkman  that  needeth  not  to  be 
ashamed." 

It  is  cruel  to  train  up,  educate,  and  press  a  child 
into  a  service  to  which  God  has  never  called  him, 
and  for  Avhich  he  has  neither  capacity  nor  inclina- 
tion. A  sacrifice  like  this  God  will  not  accept  at 
our  hands.  And  for  such  a  one,  preaching  is  a  bur- 
then to  himself,  and  a  curse  to  his  congregation, 

A  few  inferences  will  close  our  subject. 

1.  It  is  the  prerogative  of  God  only  to  call  to  this 
great  and  important  work.  In  the  formularies  of 
most  of  the  christian  churches,  this  is  recognized  as 
necessary  in  record ;  but  we  fear,  too  often, 

"  The  spirit 's  in  the  letter  lost ;  " 

and  though  all  profess  to  have  been  moved  by  the 
Holy  Ghost  to  take  upon  them  this  work,  have  we 
not  reason  to  fear  that  some  even  know  not  its 
meaning  ?  that  they  know  not  that  strong  internal 
light  which  proves  itself  of  divine  origin — those 
deep  impressions  which  leave  an  irresistible  convic- 
tion that  they  were  made  by  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  On 
this  subject  we  believe  there  can  be  no  mistake,  if 
the  Scriptures  be  our  guide.     The  work  requires  a 


MELVILLE  B.    COX.  237 

commission  that  none  can  give  but  God,  and  none 
make  applicable  to  individuals  but  the  Holy  Ghost. 
And  no  man  must  take  this  honor  to  himself,  but  he 
that  is  called  of  God,  as  was  Aaron.  We  know  not 
who  is  best  suited  to  this  work.  God's  thoughts 
are  not  our  thoughts,  nor  his  ways  our  ways.  A¥ho 
would  have  gone  to  a  fishing-boat  to  obtain  a  pillar 
on  which  was  to  rest  such  a  mighty  edifice  as  that 
of  Christianity  ?  Yet  these  were  the  very  men  best 
calculated  to  build  up  and  sustain  the  work.  They 
had  a  Paul  to  combat  infidels  ;  they  had  sons  of 
thunder  and  of  consolation.  They  had  all  that  God 
saw  was  necessary.  And  when  we  want  more,  we 
should  feel  a  jealousy  of  our  own  wants. 

2.  No  man  should  enter  this  duty  unadvisedly. 
Go  not  "  uncertainly."  If  the  divine  word  and 
impress  say — Go  up ;  if  his  providence  says — Go 
up  ;  if  your  brethren  say — Go  up  ; — go,  fearless  of 
consequences. 

But  before  this  can  be  properly  determined,  the 
soul  must  commune  with  its  God.  It  must  learn  an 
intercourse  with  heaven  which  no  language  can  tell, 
and  which  the  soul  itself  can  only  know  while 
under  those  deep  emotions  which  are  inspired  by  an 
overpowering  sense  of  the  divine  presence.  To  a 
cold  formalist,  probably,  this  language  is  foolishness. 
But  there  are  those  here  who  know  its  import.  So 
we  believe,  and  so  we  preach. 

A  word  to  my  brethren  : — Holiness  must  associate 
itself  with  all  you  think,  speak  or  do.     Bells,  pots, 


238  REMAINS    OF 

and  everything  must  have  the  inscription — "  Holi- 
ness TO  THE  Lord."  Nothing  can  atone  for  the 
want  of  this.  The  eloquence  of  art,  forced  or 
selfish  zeal,  the  physical  exertion  and  mechanical 
strains  of  a  monotonous  vociferation,  the  almost  dy- 
ing efforts  and  ingenuity  of  an  accursed  thirst  for  po- 
pular applause, — all  cannot  be  a  substitute  for  holiness. 
The  heads  and  hearts  of  ministers  must  be  clean, 
else  all  is  vain.  Take  this  away,  and  they  are 
weak  as  other  men.  In  this,  and  this  only,  can 
modern  Samsons  find  strength  to  move  the  pillars 
of  darkness.  By  it,  you  will  exert  an  influence 
which  will  be  felt  in  heaven — in  the  dark  abodes  of 
the  miserable — through  infinite  duration.  Like  the 
flaming  sword  which  guarded  the  gate  of  Para- 
dise, you  will  turn  every  way,  and,  as  you  turn,  cut 
with  convictions  irresistible. 

Finally — You  have  commenced  duties  which  can 
end  only  with  your  earthly  existence.  Other  profes- 
sions can  be  laid  down  at  will ;  your  commission  can 
only  die  with  your  death.  In  health,  in  the  pulpit,  in 
the  social  circle,  you  must  alimiys  preach.  If  on  the 
bed  of  death,  you  must  preach  there  ;  and  like  your 
divine  Master,  let  your  last  moments  bear  a  more 
convincing  testimony  that  "  this  was  the  Son  of 
God,"  than  did  the  most  eloquent  sermon  you  ever 
delivered. 


MELVILLE    B.  COX.  239 


THE  GRAVE  OF  COX. 

BY    REV.    MR.    MAFFITT. 

From  Niger's  dubious  billow, 

From  Gambia's  silver  wave, 
Where  rests,  on  death's  cold  pillow, 

The  tenant  of  the  grave. 
We  hear  a  voice  of  weeping. 

Like  low-toned  lutes  at  night, 
In  plaintive  echoes  sweeping 

Up  Mesurado's  height. 

The  palm-tree  o'er  him  waving. 

The  grass  above  his  head. 
The  stream  his  clay-couch  laving, 

All — all  proclaim  him  dead  : 
Dead  !  but  alive  in  glory, — 

A  conqueror  at  rest ; — 
Embalmed  in  sacred  story. 

And  crowned  amidst  the  blest. 

A  martyr's  grave  encloses 

His  wearied  frame  at  last, 
Perfumed  with  heaven's  sweet  roses, 

On  his  dear  bosom  cast ; 
And  Afric's  sons  deploring 

Their  champion  laid  low, 
Like  many  waters  roaring, 

Unbosom  all  their  wo. 


240  REMAINS    OF    COX. 

The  moon's  lone  chain  of  mountains, 

The  plain  where  Carthage  stood, 
Jugurtha's  ancient  fountains, 

And  Teembo's  palmy  wood, 
Are  wild  with  notes  of  sorrow, 

Above  their  sainted  friend, 
To  whom  there  comes  no  morrow. 

But  glory  without  end. 


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